Wounded stop bring help stop no stop stop

I will love you until whatever it is I’m planning falls apart and I drive back to your house

Beaten and frustrated

My left eye black

Holding flowers


Every once in a while.

Look I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for everything.
I’m sorry for not being quite as fast or quite as strong as the man you deserve.
I’m sorry my mind is such a mess all the time and I have trouble staying right here, right now, almost always.
I’m sorry I’m such a sine wave when it so comes to feelings and I’m sorry that your corners and mine are so separated from each other that it feels like there’s an asymptote between them.
I’m sorry I’m not around when you want someone to talk to and I’m sorry that means you sometimes don’t think of me as someone who will always be there.
I’m sorry you’re far away and I’m over here and mostly we just flutter around the same radius.
I’m sorry I’m impulsive and dumb and blind and deaf and oh so very taken.
I’m sorry for the sun as I am sorry for the wind and the little forest remnants that brush against your face every once in a while stretching in their microscopic timelines the moment so that they, in their own special way, can live touching you forever.
I’m sorry I don’t touch you enough.
I’m sorry we don’t talk enough.
I’m sorry we didn’t meet at the time we were supposed to meet and I’m sorry that clocks go so very slow and I’m sorry that clocks exist.
I’m sorry my eyes avert yours when you look at me with the force of a thousand comets and I feel like the defendant on a case that can’t possibly be won and I’ll get the life sentence for sure.
I’m sorry I’m such a lousy lawyer.
I’m sorry I can’t possibly defend you all the time even though I’m more than sure that you’re as strong as a thousand hurricanes and a million drops of rain all at once.
I’m sorry I’m so small.
I’m sorry I’m so young.
I’m sorry I can’t see the future as I am sorry that most times I can’t see the past and I’m doomed to run on a gramophone; jumping the needle and skipping tracks.
I’m sorry big parties make me sick.
I’m sorry I looked at you.
I’m sorry i stare both at you and at you and me and at any combination of you with almost anything else.
I’m sorry days break and nights fall as I am sorry that fire flies, phones booth and dinner rolls.
I’m sorry I can’t teleport.
I’m sorry I can’t drive boats or planes or horses or spaceships and dock them right next to your house holding a bouquet of whatever you want.
I’m sorry I don’t know what you want.
I’m sorry I’m getting old fast as I’m sorry I’m going to die too soon and I’m sorry we have lived for so long.
For so very long.
Look I’m sorry.

I’m back (After a year of ignoring you)

Hey everybody.

I’m back.

It’s november 13, 2014. The previous post in this page was made in November 10, 2013. So it’s been about a year then. Legit, one year and two days. I mean, is that destiny or something? I swear I wasn’t even checking. I didn’t even know. I didn’t even KNOW.

So maybe i’ll start writing here again. I know I say that every year, but I kinda sorta mean it this time I swear. I’m gonna use this blog to write a bunch of automatic, random, having-to-do-with-stuff-that-has-been-going-on-with-me stuff here.

Expect all sorts of stuff, ladies and gentlemen. Recipes, Movie Reviews, book reviews, pool reviews, depressive poems, happy prose, incredible deals, sci-fi stories, deep analysis of complicated machinery, retellings of romantic misadventures, letters of hate to women I used to love, letters of love to women I used to hate. Physical descriptions of both female and male bodies, and all kinds of nonsense. Particularly nonsense.

Also, expect the overall tone of the blog to change from deep depression, to black comedy and sarcasm. Not that sarcasm wasn’t present already.

Anyway, thank you very much for reading.

Whoever you are.

Let’s write great stuff together.

Nikolas Murdock

How Am I Not Myself?

It’s no secret that I’m frequently in love. It’s no secret that I love intensely. Today, I want to share something about me, something I may have written before, but something I have to write mainly because I need to get it our of my system. Coming up to my 14 years of life, I had always been a nice, mature child obsessed with being what everyone wanted him to be. I made my homework, I studied diligently, I rarely made fun of anybody. When I turned 14 something happened and I changed. That change has made itself more evident as I grow up. Now, I’m 21 years old. I want to be a writer.

I’m impatient. I think way too fast and that had brought me my fair share of problems so far. One thing I can tell you for sure is I apologize to no one. Sure, that’s not to be taken in a literal context because I’m constantly apologizing to everyone. My point is sometimes we take different more challenging paths that we should have. Sure, you could be a lawyer or a doctor or an engineer and have a successful life and a beautiful model wife and two perfect kids in your Malibu beach house, but sometimes we don’t want that. Sometimes we want to be dangerous. Sometimes we want to take things way too fast. We don’t have to apologize to anyone for this. The way I chose as my way is precisely what I want to do. Not what I’m supposed to do. Not what people expect me to do. It’s what I, deep down, truly want to do.

Sure, I fall in love quickly, but all poets do. Sure, I’m depressive often, most writers are. Sure, I may seem like all over the place and suddenly go quiet and just stare at something for a long time, most thinking people do. That’s who I am. That’s who I want to be. I want to kiss my loved one for hours and just stare at her eyes until I feel I’ve had enough and then kiss some more. I like to constantly declare my identity, because I like my identity. I like me. I built me. I’ll never get tired of saying it and I couldn’t care less about what other people think. I’m in love. Fuck everything else.

I’m Nikolas Murdock.

Victorinox Girl

Enjoy the little things.

Little things make our lives slightly better. A menage of little thing can go a long way into making us see the world in a different light. When we get up in the morning, birds singing can define the difference between a happy day, or a terrible gray day. Does it smell like morning? Is the grass freshly cut? What did we have for breakfast? Did we get stuck in traffic that day? Did we say hello to our neighbors?

Glasses of wine make our lives slightly better. When we have a beer with our friends, we not only savor the inherent flavor and alcohol in the beer, but the situation and the general aura of the context we’re in. When we smoke with a friend, that little cigarette contributes to making our perception of our surroundings slightly brighter. When we hear the chords of an electric guitar, it changes us. If we watch a terrible movie with friends, we can laugh afterwards about how we just paid 8 bucks to be completely and utterly bored for two hours. We’ve had problems in the past, sure, but those moments seem completely insignificant compared to the little things we can learn to take advantage of.

Random encounters make our lives slightly better. Shy glances at someone we like make us better people and, ultimately, raises our over-all self-esteem. Prolonged eye contact makes us happy because there was something missing in our lives for a long time, and we think we’ve found it. The constant desire of looking at that person we hold dear, or we wish to hold dear, drive us forward and define our general states of mind. Beautiful auras, when we are careful enough to perceive them, can turn a depressive evening into something we will remember for a long time.

Kisses make our lives slightly better. Random hugs from foreign people we thought were distant can make long-lasting impressions. Slow dances change out lives for the better, giving us new points of view. Watching old movies together or whispering softly in each other’s ears may not seem like much at first, but they are there for a very noble cause. They are there to drive our efforts. They are here to save our lives. They are here to show us that it doesn’t matter how bad of a day we’ve had, or how sad we are, or how enormous the world may seem in comparison with our small universe, we have something small that makes it all worth it. We have something small that makes us stop caring.

This helps. Puppies, tables and cups of tea. Sharing, conversing and holding hands. Looking, staring and looking away. Keeping secrets, confessing and being honest. It helps. It makes our lives slightly better. Little by little, It makes out lives much better.

Take chances, live dangerously, apologize to no one.


I’ve never been particularly good with poetry. When I got poetry assignments back in elementary school, I must admit I did better than my classmates, but every poem was a failure in my eyes. I haven’t gotten any better in the last few years, and rhyming is still one of my biggest fears. I tremble at the mere mention of having two words that sound similar. So, after a while, I started making poems that did not rhyme. Sure, every line is independent from the whole, and it sounds good when said together, but they do not rhyme at all. I guess what matters is your intentions.

So i think my intentions are pretty positive when I say that you’re the most beautiful person alive. I mean you’re so pretty, books could be written about the books that could be written about your eyes alone. The way you walk is so attractive, I could swear the earth tries to move according to your steps. Every scenery looks completely empty without you in it. Every time I have to think positive, I think of you. You always seem to irradiate a warm glow. You are nice and funny. I fancy you with a passion. I fancy the way your legs move, I fancy the way your hands move. I fancy the way your hair moves. I fancy the way you smile. I fancy the way you talk.

In other words, I think you’re really hot.

Deal with it.

Does This Dress Make Me Look Fat?

I can do nothing else but write pretty words to you. I can offer no more than my ability to speak, and even if that’s not much, I would like you to take it.

I honestly don’t know what else to do. I’m tired of loving one-sidedly. It’s beautiful, but tiring. It’s also very painful at times. It’s like going up an unknown mountain and then discovering there’s someone else’s flag sitting on top.

I feel sad and frustrated again. It seems when there’s no people around, I become like this. I don’t really want to do anything, but no one cares anyway.

I need visual stimuli to get by now. If I don’t watch happy movies or shows, I can’t think everything’s going to be ok. If I’m not constantly listening to music I like, I lose all perception of the world.

I’m honestly beginning to think that it’s too much to ask that someone would take an interest in me. I look in the mirror, and all I see is defects. If you have no money, no self-esteem and no social abilities, it might be a little far-fetched that someone would look in your direction.

I can’t stand to see you. I get very confused.

Am I always like this on Wednesdays?