Matière Noire

Dancing with Death

I found myself crying in a train station again. I hate train stations. I’ve waited too long to go to places where I wanted to go and places where I didn’t, I’ve departed from places I didn’t want to leave, I’ve ran away, I’ve left people. I’ve always felt miserable in train stations. I’ve felt sick and misplaced waiting for people I loved. I had to stop myself from running away. I’ve had to force myself to step out of the train and not miss the station. I’ve been punched in the face for a cigarette.

I make terrible mistakes in train stations. I let people go without telling them that I don’t want to be able to live without them. When I’m tired and hungover in the morning, after a journey from the south to the north or the other way around, I make the same mistake, constinuously and consciously.

1 week ago 0 notes →

The stench of heartbreak spread over Paris. Tired of running around in the streets in the middle of the night, sometimes the hunter but mostly the prey, that’s when I decided to run away to London.

For months, I was still incapable of looking at someone in the eyes - that was due to self-consciousness and drug abuse- and the house were I was living got repeatedly burglarized.

One day that I was meeting my friend Rollo Kim, I decided to follow him to Brighton were he had a gig to review. When I ask him if the band was any good live, he pulled a face, and I wasn’t sure wether his coffee was too hot or if it was an answer to my question. As a matter of fact, I didn’t get to see The Mekano Set playing live that day. They were playing a Matinée and we had the timing wrong.

In the end, we got very drunk and lost a significant amount of money at the Pier (I won a keychain that I later thought to be cursed and buried with a ritual in a friend’s garden). When I came back home late that night, my room had not been sacked for the first time in weeks. I decided it was a sign -or a silent threat- and decided to join The Mekano Set.

1 week ago 0 notes →

“Les parents aujourd’hui trouvent leurs enfants généralement bien capricieux et autoritaires. Mais non, leur répondent les pédopsychiatres, ne vous affolez pas, c’est le développement normal de l’individu. Vous devez savoir que l’enfant passe par la phase du non qui le conduit à la phase de refus qui le mène à la phase d’opposition à laquelle succède la phase de rejet qui annonce la crise d’adolescence. Après quoi, il deviendra un adulte péremptoire et borné comme tous les autres.”

— Eric Chevillard

(Source: son-autre-oeil)

1 week ago 1 note →

Open letter to someone I thought I loved (but didn’t).

Dear *****

I’m writing this letter to tell you how wrong you were about most things. I can write this letter now because after one year without talking to you, I am finally at peace. I was not until two weeks ago.

Because I’ve been ditched by a friend whose personnality and attitude towards me were much similar to yours, I can finally understand who you are, who I am, and who we were to each other. This sounds pretentious but it is not, because what I understood is my own private business. I am merely writting this letter to inform you. As I am expecting you to disagree with my statements, I am not throwing this at you as a truth, but as the end of the journey I took to free myself from you.

You were right about one thing : I do not know how to love. Where you were wrong was to think that one’s ability to love is natural. I do not think it is. I think everything that is strong and durable requires efforts, work. Love, as I perceive it now, is a learning process. See what you call your love for me, this raw and untamed passion, it was made of desire and jealousy, and it turned into hate and bitterness in an instant. I did not love you, for I never had the time and opportunity to learn how. Maybe I was a coward for not trying, but so were you, and in the end nothing we had was ever worth anything.

I am so glad to say that I don’t love you anymore, because I never did. My passion for you is gone, and so is yours and it saddens me that I suffered for you in vain. And I’ll learn how to love because I’ll find something worth the effort.

Never yours,

Justine

2 weeks ago 0 notes →