Satanic stories, black magic & love

 It was 8:35pm and I was walking home. It was a normal Friday after work. I had had a good day. It all went smoothly and there was nothing that had disrupted my hard-earned calm and peace of mind. The wind blew gently yet with enough strength to keep the heatwaves of summer away from my sun-ridded skin. I kept a slow pace as I had decided to take it slow. Nobody was waiting for me at home. Except for the cats that were probably angry I wasn't coming home on time for dinner. Their dinner. Not mine. I think even though they showed their affection towards me, they couldn't care less if I ate anything for dinner or not. It was their nature, and I respected it. They were there for me when I was down and blue. They were there for my happy birthdays and for the uneventful dates. In return, I tried to keep their feeding schedule tight. Their water is fresh and their toilets shit-free. I didn't always deliver, as I sometimes would hit the bar near my office for a beer or two before ...

 It was one of those nights when the snow falls so hard the darkness turns white. Snowflakes gently crashing down and colliding in such a violent fashion. There was an ambiguity to it that made the cruel winter seem lovely. It was 8:05pm and I already had 2 beers down my throat. I had had a tough week and I was tired. I was tired of everything and everyone around me. Judging me, patronizing me, and thinking they knew better than I could ever do. For me, it was natural selection, I had come to understand why people leave. It was the best explanation I could have come up with. Why do they always leave? Or should I say: why do the good ones stay? It is always a matter of how you see things. You can be like my parents, fatalistic, and believe everything is up to destiny. Poor destiny. All the lies and the heartache that is credited to fate. If only destiny could refute these claims and shut them all up, life would be a different story. You could see all the good in things and people. L...

I never found a way how to be really happy, for longer than a day or two. I thought of drowning and hanging and of sharp razors, to keep it all inside. Was it really selfish to want to be happier than just for 48 hours? I know now I knew nothing back then. I knew shit. Or even if I knew, I wanted more. More than I could get. I wanted to be happy so badly that I ended up being really down and blue. Drowning in bloodshed puddles of pity. Hanging from a tread every second and every minute. Fucking collecting knives and needles. Whatever made the cut. My life was a sad guitar riff struggling to be remembered. I had somehow found my strength in my own darkness, in my own flaws, and in my own suffering. I was protected and no longer adrift. I was no longer just a bad dream. Strumming strings of happiness that disappear like the angels. And they never said goodbye. They just vanished. Away from the light, I was trying to shine on them.  It all felt eternal to me. Everyone else seemed to h...

 "Destroy to open," read the instructions to my newly acquired vinyl by Marilyn Manson. The instructions were clear, yet I grew confused by the minute. I, an avid collector or music, didn't want to destroy the latest addition to my collection. I wanted to preserve the black paper wrapper, forever. But at the same time, I wanted to tear it open and play the shit out of it on my turntable. As loud as my eardrums could bear. As loud as I could to make it all go away, just for 4 minutes. I stood in my living room with the lp in my hands, tightly holding on to that moment, unable to decide whether I should go ahead with its destiny and play it, or just keep it in limbo for God knows how many days before temptation finally made me give in. I think I was always the collecting type. Even if it was cards or the occasional toy that came in a chocolate egg, I would keep them and place them carefully, displayed for everyone to see, but most importantly, for me to know that I had them...

Another year had gone by and as I woke up that morning, I knew that it was going to be a memorable day. Even though several winters had marked my feeble heart and scarred my bright pupils, my heart pumped like never before. I had always completed my morning routine, to a point in which if any of its steps was cut short, partially altered, or omitted, my day would lag. Resulting in a bitter aura that would affect others around me. I knew by then, that people would, sort of tolerate me, for I had earned their respect little by little. Yet, I was aware of the slow-motion wounds that I would inflict to the innocents in my way.  I took no pleasure in doing this. But I have to admit that bearing the scars made me feel more like a war hero. People generally tend to admire and respect those, and won't ask questions. Even if they talked behind my back, it felt like an ego boost. Secretly, until that day. The alarm clock went off as expected. It was 5:00am on that cold spring day. You could ...

I was always prone to let myself drown by my own misery. I had mastered the art of self-pity. And in all those years living like this, I had found joy. It was my secret happy place, even if others would disagree. I had found the place, or rather the state of being, in which I was comfortable with myself. A place I would escape to gather my thoughts and in many ways a place where I felt understood. I was well aware of all my wrongdoings and flaws, and there was no one there to judge me. I was never a bad person. One might think you have to be a murderer or a bad parent to find in the mold. I had never killed anyone or anything, except for the annoying flies and bloodthirsty mosquitoes. I always thought I was too good or too weak to go for bigger victims, it's up to you to decide. And then again, whatever you think of me, doesn't bother me at night. I sleep well like most of you. Despite the occasional nightmare, I sleep safe and sound. I had always been able to move in the ...

We walked down the dark staircase using our phones to shine the shadows away as we stepped further down the rabbit hole. Each step down felt as forsakenness. It felt as if a small piece of our cracked souls was left behind never to be accounted for, ever again. Like the dying leaves are carried away by the icy winds just before mother winter covers it all in unforgiving white. We were getting lost and we knew it. We were losing ourselves and we didn't stop. We had always chased the rush and the adrenaline. The rock and roll and the booze, but tonight, tonight we were going down a one-way road. Never to see the light again. Never to feel anything anymore. The air was stale and it reeked of panic and dread. It was like being 12 again. The noise inside my head would manifest from time to time reminding me of what I feared was real. The screams and tears from downstairs. The flames in the fireplace cracking in a menacing way making the shadows dance in such a threatening fashio...