Gary Schwarzinger

It's so damn cold here, not that I'd be shivering, but it is too cold. I can already see the frost taking over my room. And the light, it just wouldn't leave me alone; every ray is like two arrows aiming my eyes. I have my winter wool hat on all the time: on my head and on my eyes.
I am starting to hate the time... while I don't even know what time it is.
I tried to vomit a several time, in order to get read of the pain in my stomach, but there was simply nothing there to be thrown up; I just can't eat, even the idea of a fine dish makes me sick.
I wish I were a smoker, I believe cigarettes and booze help you throw up, or that might also be just an illusion, j u s t l i k e e v e r y t h i n g e l s e .
The moments I pass in the WC, either sitting on it or bent over trying my best, are my calmest moments; sometimes I try to find some excuse to stay there a longer while, so that I would not have to face my room again.
most of the time I just think, the wost possible poison for one who is already sick due to his mentals. But I can not do anything else. Sometimes I try to imagine her next to me, it does good for some seconds but then it hurts just twice.
I even dropped unconscious a several times, it felt as if something was sucked out of me, when I came to, in the silence of my room, I had lost record of everything; but then I thought up a trick, I wrote her name on the palm of my hand, so the next times, I would see it and everything came back to me, just like a blinding flash of a light.

Curling up in my bed as a result of several disorders such as high heart beat rate, having taken 100 efficient milligrams of my deadly pills and I do not know how many tranqualizers, Adult cold and some green stuff for my throat, dominat headache, the feeling of my bones being crushed no matter which way I turn to relieve the pain in my stomach....
I have given words which I can not hold on to, for the first time in my whole life, I believe I am dying, nothing else could be so diverse, that's how I feel it.
I send her an SMS pleading to come visit me for some small minutes, follishly promissing to hide myself under the blanket, I do what I have never done, agin; two birds with one stone, twice in one act!
Of course she won't. She just writes back that I will survive it, the SMS I get at 2:30' am. I guess she's right, maybe she knows me sometimes better than I do.
It i true, I will survive because I must survive, because I have been a surviver... but not this time, this time I must survive or I will never see her again. So I arise against me, against nature, against my nature, I fight for her, I fight to see her again. A week of killing pain, think Gary, sacrifice this week of your life just to see her again. This week is the first step, I know it won't be just this week, but if I fail this week, then it will be over, then I will never...
It's totally mad, I am not the guy for such stories, or maybe better say, I have never been.
But then it comes to me, all the days I was looking forward to come to London. A quick look back and a quick look foreward, it's just damn too clear why I came to London. Nice excuses I did find, but noone ever believed them. A lot is clear, a lot hasn't been just for her, but why I came to London, to a city I had never considered before...
There's a famous saying for Schwarzinger youths, I hear it now in my mind, again and again and again. Only a week, seven whole days, each containing 24 hours of conscious; I won't ever be such a fool again.