Crying yet again, what a fucking surprise.

— Cyphercorpse.

Death is a freshly painted room.


You’re gone and suddenly I cannot move. I sink into my mattress like I used to sink into your arms. Warm as it can be, nothing compares to flesh and bone. I tug and pull at bedsheets, I feel the heat yet coward more in the midst of an endless stream of fluff. I don’t want the world to know I’m here. Soft as it can be, it’s your touch I want. Only your arms could console me now yet I know you won’t come back.

You’re gone and suddenly I awake. My every pore sweating profusely through the night. I look around and I see nothing. I could endlessly look but I’d never find you. There is no end to the loneliness I feel when you’re not around me, yet I’ve managed; the rest of my life can’t end soon enough.

You’re gone and suddenly I’m empty. My stomach roars in recognition. This is the feeling I’ve longed for in the dark crevices of my mind. I could starve forever if it meant not thinking about it. I touch the edges of the you-shaped absence and wonder if it’ll grow enough. The rumbling, the rumination are now the same. There’s nothing to feed in this body of mine, I want nothing but to destroy myself.

You’re gone and suddenly I’m nothing. I look around for traces of what’s left. I create a mental inventory: a couple of books scattered around here and there. A laptop I do not dare touch. Your photographs mock me. Maybe if I suffocate myself with this pillow I’ll get to sense your smell. Then I won’t have to walk out and be judged by the unmerciful eyes of love. No, no, for all I tried, I was not good enough.

— Cyphercorpse.



It was my own sense of guilt that kept you around for so long, now I can stop pretending.
An eye for an eye is only fair.
You are soaked in my gore but it was me who did the carving and the severing.

— Cyphercorpse.



A goodbye hug will tell you all you need to know. It is a measure for the otherwordly distance that separates the two of us; how wicked, for such a small world. A measure for the work it will take to close the gap.

— Cyphercorpse.

☹ pt. 3


You don't want me and that's fine. Honestly. I'll just go back to dreaming of people who do.

For all it's worth, for all it hurts, I do get you. No matter how tender I am, I remain unworthy of a soft touch. It should slight and maim.

No matter how cozy it feels, I am unworthy of being a place of my own. Don't let it confuse you. This is not the warmth of a home.

— Cyphercorpse.

☹ pt. 2


Why are you pulling away now? I know there has to be something else to it.

Words usually come easier when I'm this desolate.

But I knew, I knew. From the moment I met you. I knew it would be different because you're unlike anyone I've ever known before.

— Cyphercorpse.



We all want others to be clear with us, while hardly ever thinking about the ways in which we confuse those around us. How funny will it be when this comes back to haunt you.

— Cyphercorpse.


Oh well, I hope I don't fall in love with you.

— Cyphercorpse.



The images in my head make me shudder. I shy away from looking at them. I’m used to the incessant talking and the overstepping of personal boundaries. I hear my voice when I don’t want to, I beg for it to shut up but some days it just won’t stop. It keeps talking over me, makes me lose the feeble grasp I have on my own thoughts. I stumble and fall, clumsily dance around the things I know; but the girl inside me is harsh. She doesn’t stutter, she doesn’t budge. She pierces and bludgeons and slashes through my walls, rattles my ground. She doesn’t let me sleep at night. She wants my attention but I know it’s the only thing I have left. If I just focus on enough things, I can go another day without having to face her.

But she wants me to see. She has no other way to get to me. It’s not the cuts, not the splatters, she doesn’t make all this noise just to spite me. When I do look at her all I see is an endless void, vacant of any hostility. I have successfully obliterated any threat. Yet she sits there, just waiting. With her head in between her knees, arms crossed, eyes peering thru. Waiting for a blow that’s never coming. She’s safe but she’s cursed to not see it. It’s an idea she cannot assimilate, a thought she cannot compute.

— Cyphercorpse.



Every day I try to fix my fucked up relationship with food and every day I fail. Oh well, at least today wasn't a complete waste. I have to stop talking to myself like this or else nothing is gonna get better. I really mean it this time, I want to get better.

— Cyphercorpse.



Freedom looks so good on you. You’re one of those people who could make it anywhere. A while ago that would’ve diminished my opinion on you drastically but now I see just how foolish I’ve been to believe that the extraordinary lies only in discomfort. Maybe this is how I justify just how out of place I feel everywhere. I’m terrified of what a life worth living could look like; in its splendor, it would blind me. My eyes are not trained to see the light.

Still, what a nice surprise. I’m sorry to say that up until now, I was not paying attention. Sometimes I get so caught up in my own shit and I can’t see anything else. In a way, I’ll have to admit I was using you at first. I wanted your attention and your time, and not out of any reasonable basis. I wanted the implications, not you. Maybe that’s what I do in every one of my relationships, just on varying degrees. I never let anyone see me, I coward at the thought of intimacy. Fleeting glimpses of interest are all I know and all I care for, apparently.

I’m glad I’m noticing these patterns, and that’s thanks to you. What a shame we don’t know each other enough to withstand the test of time. Things will be different once you come back, for better or for worse. I’ll be waiting here until I’m not.

— Cypherstar.

New habits.


You know how there are some people who go thru their whole lives believing some things are set in stone? Immutable, permanent. Thankfully I'm not one of them, I can always be better, do better, change my ways and slowly turn into the person I want to be.

Sure, willpower and strength of character aren’t always the easiest resources to tap into. Some days just fucking suck and it’s easier to do whatever it was that made you feel miserable and comfortable. That’s fine. Not all days will be like that and eventually it will all be a sour memory.

— Cypherstar.

Kissing in cars.


You know? A couple of months ago I would've killed for this to happen. I always sat in the backseat, nervous, waiting for you to decide. Are you gonna drop off everyone else first and then ask me to kiss you? Will you drive straight to my house? I was always dissapointed when the route looked too familiar. It always did.

Of course this is how you typically work. You refuse to give me what I want when I want it, and you're too detached to act out on your own impulses. That's why it took so long for this to materialize. It's been months since I last thought of you in a romantic sense. I've had to listen to you talk about other girls, solve your problems, mitigate the damage you cause.

I'm sorry I made it awkward, I'm sorry I didn't seem to be into it and I'm sorry you didn't feel wanted. I tried hard to summon all the things I know I've felt for you but I'm mostly an empty shell these days. Things will never be the same.

— Cyphercorpse.

Maggots: unleashed.


I know how these things go. I’m happy and things seem to be going well. I laugh with my friends and openly participate in their conversations. I don’t rid myself with overtly complicated thoughts that have little to do with the circumstances at hand. I breathe out and no desolation comes out. I know better now, that does not mean the great unhappiness is gone; it just means it hid itself beneath my skin. It moves thru slits of what otherwise would’ve been a perfectly good body. In between the scars and the blisters, I know it’s buried deep beneath the surface, just waiting to come out again. When it does, a visceral picture. You won't want to be around.

I've been there many times. There is no other end to this story. I will die sad and alone.

— Cyphercorpse.



There is a girl who always sits by herself on the sixth floor cafeteria on sundays. I wonder is she has ever noticed that I do the same, I highly doubt it.

It feels good to know that I've relearnt to find comfort in being by myself. As someone who is perpetually lonely in all spheres of life, It's refreshing not having to feel like shit for it. It helps me reflect upon the things that happen to me, instead of just mindlessly making up my mind, creating more room for me to be just wrong. It may sound awfully miserable for some, but this is how it's always been, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else. I feel like myself.

— Cypherstar.

x_x pt. 3


How are we supposed to survive with this never-ending sense of doom?

How are we to enjoy being alive when all stimuli feels like a threath?

Not only am I unable to achieve the things that I want, which already depletes me from all my energy, but I also have to worry about losing what little I currently have. That wretched relationship with my family, the little money I have saved, my increasingly confusing tangle of friendships; I could lose all of that any second now, so I always have to be wary, for I cannot survive without those. What would become of me without that feeble sense of stability that they give me? I'm too afraid to come up with an answer.

But when do I stop feeling tired? Will I ever be able to open my eyes without feeling the weight of the time that I’ve lost, the chances I’ve missed, the potential I’ve wasted? I’m just done with feeling lethargic all the fucking time. There has to be a way to make it stop and I know from experience that I’m strong enough for big changes, especially when they are only driven by sheer willpower. I guess I'll have to start by no longer commiting to the narrative that I’m terrible at making decisions, or too weak to break bad habits. I know I'm neither of those things, I’ve laid off more shortcomings than the average 21 year old has.

Of course I would also need to stop doing whatever it is that gets me in those situations. I have no idea what it is. Laying off an unhealthy habit is great, but it would be nice to see a cigarette without having to wonder if today's the day I betray myself. It's a state of fear I'm afraid I will find myself in many times, it probably won't stop until I'm counting worms.

— Cyphercorpse.



So this is what it feels like to break your own heart.

It’s an empty hotel lobby, no sun shining through the top down glass walls. You know exactly where your access card is for the first time in your life so you don’t clumsily look for it in your bag, you just grab it. You see familiar faces on the way to the elevator but you’re too focused, your mind is not quick enough to find the folder in your brain in which you store the casual greetings, the funny one liners you use for each person you know. You just keep walking and walking and walking until the elevator door opens. It’s empty, fortunately. What was it you were gonna say to them? We went over this in our brains but it’s gone now. You’ll just have to have a normal conversation, I guess, one in which every one of your interactions spontaneously arises as you interact with another person. You wince at the thought of it. There’s no control you can hold on to, nothing for you to fall back on. One would’ve thought at your big age you would know something about talking but it turns out you don’t.

The elevator opens and you turn right, an open door is waiting for you. The way to the end of the room is long but that’s where you need to go. You turn right again and there they are. Sitting alone. You can still turn back, go back to your friends, get a ride home and cry yourself to sleep. Wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe you’re not ready to face their apathy again. Weren’t they supposed to like me? Or have I just fabricated the whole thing again?

He said he had never kissed someone, that he had never felt like doing it before. He kissed you. He held your hand. He put his arms around you and met your friends. Was it all a lie? Were they just trying to use you? If so, they succeeded. But is it possible they’ve never seen you that way?

This column won’t hide you forever, and you’re doing this for yourself. Walk. What you’re doing is very hard and very brave, and that’s what sets you apart. His head is down, say hi. He does not seem estranged or annoyed at your presence so that’s a good start. There’s no turning back now.

— Cyphercorpse.



Well, I guess life is just full of reminders that you’re a worthless piece of shit, always have been, always will be. It doesn’t matter how you change, how you don’t, there will always be something, there, solely to remind you that you were once not good enough and that all that you’ve accomplished can be gone, just like that, in the blink of an eye.

W, I was having such a good time but you had to say that. You had to comment on my body. I really wish you hadn’t. I know it was supposed to be a compliment, you made that very clear; still, it triggers me to just think of the possibility of people reminiscing on how I used to look before. I hate that people remember, I hate that they took notice. You just made my fear very real. Im sorry I wasn’t good enough, cute enough, skinny enough before. You were not worth the calories I had on our date. Can’t wait to ghost you.

— Cyphercorpse.

x_x pt. 2


Oh my dear Star, look what you have turned into; a mere fragment of yourself.

You used to live so intentionally, what happened? Don't you miss enjoying things? It's been so long since I've heard you laugh truthfully, months have passed since you last went a day without torturing yourself over self imposed rules, of course socially built, yet individually enforced. And for what? All in the name of control.

I remember you being young and valuing your freedom above all else. Your passion was unprecedented. Your will, unstoppable. You believed that there was hope for you to have a fulfilling, happy life. You used to dare, explore. I fear you have lost your sense of self, your unquenchable thirst for learning and knowing and discussing and creating and destroying and I don't know how I could've let this happen and I'm very sorry, I didn't think it would get this bad but it did and I don't know how to stop it. I guess this is just what happens when you give up on fighting against all the pressures of a hyper productive, mindbreaking, heartnumbing society.

I just know this is not who we're supposed to be or how we're supposed to be living and I just wish I could be of any help in closing those mental tabs somehow, so that maybe you could take a breath that doesn't exhale a myriad of borrowed thoughts from a future we're not sure we believe in. So that maybe you could feel pretty, or smart, or funny, creative, genuine, capable of holding a few coherent thoughts in your head, again.

— Cyphercorpse.

What's wrong with me?


Dear xxxx,

Serious question, why don't I feel happy when good things happen to me? Or when I achieve something? When I get that thing I've been looking forward to? I just got tickets for a Taylor Swift concert, who as you know, has been one of my favorite artists since I was like 9 years old. I used to dance around my room wondering what it would be like to see her live. For fuck's sake, I used to binge-watch her Journey to Fearless DVD and the Speak Now tour on YouTube, and now it's like I feel nothing.

As I sit in bed typing this, I wonder, what is it that I'm working for? What am I trying to accomplish? Shouldn't there be a guiding principle to the things that I do? I know it sounds naive and cliche, and I'm too smart to still believe in purpose and "the call", but it sort of feels wrong to not have anything to live for. I no longer feel things strongly and I'm not sure if there's something I can do about it.

— Cyphercorpse.

The resolute.


Dear xxxx,

A month later, hi. I keep seeing your messages everywhere but I just dont get around to writing a response. Today the thought of you carries such weight that I was unable to stop thinking about writing.

My life has reached a point of no return, or at least that's what it feels like. Things had been changing pretty rapidly around me but never enough to somehow influence my insight, the circunstances just made me feel overwhelmed. Now that I got the hang of it, I have enough headspace to just think. About what it all means, what the consequences of my actions really are, the life that I am building. Thankfully, I don't regret the half of it.

On the other hand, I really wish there was someone in my life who would just tell me to get my shit together, give me a call to action so I can finally move forward. I don't know anyone to whomst I would grant such say in my matters. Does that reveal my desire for a partner or my longing for my mom? I'm not sure, but those are connected anyways.

Another thing I wanted to talk to you about is the fact that I have gotten meaner. It's been like this for so long and everyone arounds me knows, including you, but why haven't you said anything? I hate that it's come to this. I should be held responsible for all the damages I've caused. Come on, two years ago I would've never believed you if you told me that I'd become this vain, this shallow, this gossipy, this backstabbing, this deceitful. Old me was actually interesting. She was cool and had opinions, and didn't care so much for what people had to say. I understand I want to be pretty, but damn, what's the point if deep down I don't believe it's worth it?

Let's hope the next few days come with their own share of revelations. I want to understand.

— Cyphercorpse.



I hate that I have an eating disorder. How did I let this happen? Have I always been this weak? This is the biggest fault in my character. I’m letting it affect me way too much. I shouldn’t be trying this hard to fit in. Not to the point that it affects my health. I feel insane right now. But I hate myself for being fat. Damn, I don’t even feel guilty, tbh. This is what you have to do for people to love you. That is what I really want, I guess. For someone to care. I truly believe being thinner will get me that. I just need to be a little bit prettier, my personality can do the rest. So I need to lose weight. Fast. I don’t want to be like this forever, just until I feel pretty enough. I believe I will still have a night weight. Like 65kg seems good enough for me. I really wish I could have a more radical change. I really wish I could lose another 30kg. It would be a dream to reach bmi 17, but I think I will end up settling for a steady bmi 22. I fear pushing it further than that and losing control of this disorder.

— Cyphercorpse.

Flesh without guts.


My humanity is coming off out of every hole in me. It’s spilling from everywhere. If you get too close, you might smell it. Please go away. I don’t want you to see me like this. I feel exposed. Naked. I need to go. Need to release. I’m so unlovable right now. So savage. But I kinda like it. I get to stop pretending for a second that I’m a normal person. I feel ugly, dirty, disgusting and it’s fine. I should enjoy this.

— Cyphercorpse.

I feel see-through.


Dear xxxx,

'I am strong enough to do this' is what I tell myself every night before crying myself to sleep. It's been like this ever since I moved out. After the 4th night in a row I just accepted that it was gonna be like this for a while. I've tried looking for help, just wanted to clarify before you go thinking I'm not acting upon it; it turns out it's really hard to put into words. I just can't find them. Besides, I worry too much about how others may react to stuff like this. When you're depressed, loneliness becomes the framework from which you observe the world. No one cares enough to listen, so better to keep my distance as to avoid being put through the tortuous ordeal of being misunderstood.

Also, and this could be my egocentrism speaking, my sadness is not something other people can understand. You barely did, and I know you tried hard. I guess it's just very circunstantional. Just ask me how much time I spend thinking about the past, it's what I do most. I've put myself in a restraining chair, taped my eyes, I've forced myself to watch it go on and on forever. Every mistake, every word spoken, I'm hyperware of how every single moment I've lived continuously constructs and desconstructs me.

My point is that I would have to externalize all of that for someone else to understand. A mighty task that would make me explode, I'm sure. I also think that we all experience sadness in a different way. Like that Anna Karenina line about how every happy family is the same, whereas unhappy families are all unhappy in their own way. That's how I feel about sadness in general, I guess.

I suppose with time my words will come out, but I reckon this is an advance. As I told M today, I feel fine, and NOT in a dog surrounded by fire kind of way. I am no longer surrounded by fire. He said he was glad and I believe him.

I hope the next few days feel like this too. The light at the end of the tunnel is tangible now.

— Cypherstar.



I would like to dedicate this entry to you, but don’t let it get to your head. I’m doing this because things ended abruptly, and I didn’t have the space to say all that I wanted to say, and because things have changed enough since then. This is what I want you to know.

Yes, you. I wasn’t aware of just how much power I had given you. I laid down my weapons, showed you all my tricks, I let your hands caress my weak spots; I didn’t even flinch. I suppose in my search for appreciative fingers, I forgot just how much damage they can cause. The perfect weapon. I begged you to maim me and was surprised to find such enthusiasm beneath your tender touch. At the time I couldn’t even think of you in a bad light. Thought I was refusing to cave in to old patterns, though of myself above the pettiness and the anger and the confusion. I was wrong about you.

But you were wrong too, about many things. Most importantly, you were wrong about me. It bothers me to know you speak with such authority about my shortcomings and wrongdoings, as if you had ever cared enough to see me for who I am. Maybe all I need is for you to come forward and admit that you don’t really know what you’re talking about.

This one is harder to say: I no longer think you’re special. You’re just as destructive as anybody else. You go through life with a complete disregard for the softness around you, you coward. I long for the day people like you are brave enough for gentleness and sincerity.

Whatever it is you’re looking for, I hope you find it, and I hope you don’t damage too many people on the search for it. I hope from now on you have the courage to be honest, and I hope you can find as much comfort and ease in the truth as I do. I hope you find a place in which you feel safe enough to put down your armor, all battered and bruised, and I hope you’re strong enough to take the hits. It is not easy, but you’ll get better in time. You’ll learn just how much muscle it takes to face things head on instead of dancing around them. Guarding yourself and dodging the hard things can get you far, but it will never measure up to the sturdiness of honesty.

I don’t expect you to actually read this or gain anything from it, but thankfully this is more about me than it has ever been about you.


It is your loss.

— Cypherstar.