they said it would get easier after the first time, that i would get used to the the relentless wave of moments, the blinks of bliss and the poisonous promise of a tonight. and perhaps i will one day. or perhaps not. maybe i'll just keep seeing the flaws of fucking without feelings.
in this case, we were just two strangers fumbling in the dark, patting at our pockets as if searching for misplaced morals sandwiched in between cigarette packets, credit cards and each other's surname. we didn't need each other. not in that way. not in the sort of manner that keeps couples glued to each other's side for five years while secretly wanting to shoot each other (or themselves) in the head. i guess we just wanted each other. the way one craves for mcdonalds after a big night out, or a hot bath after a long day at work. perhaps we even wanted to tame our own unspoken loneliness with anonymity. whatever it was to get us by.
i'm not used to this, i thought to myself. he looks like he knows what he's doing. but i'm scared shitless right now because i know this doesn't work for me. i can't kiss someone without feeling i need to love them wholeheartedly but i did it anyway. it struck me the instance we awkwardly arrived at the hotel lobby, constantly checking to see if the other was still under the influence of carnal degradation and hoping we wouldn't snap back into reality and save oneself from what would happen next. the hands intertwined up an elevator soon followed, feigning familiarity, feigning love beyond the fact that it was a mutual, rash agreement signed by a sneaky kiss on the dance floor. he opened the door to a balcony blanketed by the crisp, chill of the evening sky. with my cigarette alight and a million thoughts racing through my head, the most prominent voice of reason echoes and pounds through the system, far stronger than the copious amounts of champagne previously downed, screaming but you don't do this.
and then the stranger stares intently, he's but an inch away and here you are overanalysing once again. sobering up. trying to figure what he's thinking, whilst simultaneously trying hard to hide your tortured soul. he grabs your face and for that moment you feel as if you've known him all your life. that perhaps he is the boy you subconsciously dreamed about in high school and this moment, shrouded by the mystery of a foreign country with a foreign person for one long and arduous night, is but perfection in disguise. temporarily you know everything surface about him. about his nickname, his tattoos, his hometown, the way he likes to bite your lip while you kiss. temporarily you are the apple of his eye. temporarily you are drawn by such lust that takes superiority above all else. temporarily you are being offered the most expensive delicacy on a silver platter, free of charge. you are torn as to take it, knowing fully well that if you but have the slightest taste, you will never cease to want more.
and then you fall asleep in his arms. spooning the way you only wanted to do with someone you actually cared about. and in that fetal position, thoughts overflow, drenching the hotel room with a numbness, a wholehearted understanding that there is no repeat. there is no breakfast after. there is no late night conversations with your legs rested on your bedroom wall or picnics by the beach. there is no time, no agreement, no need for friendship and association after. it was fun. it wasn't fulfilling. we didn't need each other, you remind yourself. and as you rise from the rumination, embarrassed by your hungover, morning face you realise this. fetching your dress, looking into his eyes, there was no magic, he did not miraculous evolve or transform into a potential. he is still the same stranger who twirled your arm across the dance floor. the same stranger who is saying good morning to you from the bathroom, the same way he said good night in between the sheets.
and as you awkwardly depart the hotel lobby, go separate ways. you politely thank each other, express gratitude for the company and know fully well that it will probably be the last time you see each other ever again. and when reality strikes you both, he will forget your name, your face and associate you with another new years, another frisky time accompanied with feeling forever young. and you'll do exactly the same. they said it would get easier after the first time, but all i can still see is the flaw of fucking without feelings.
love,
Showing posts with label fact or fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fact or fiction. Show all posts
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Sunday, July 15, 2012
thought #248- alternate realities
we would meet outside a pub, his body leaning with a peculiar deftness. he would appear confident, indifferent and effortless. his locks would be overgrown; facial hair. tattoos scrawled across his flesh. he would wear ripped clothing coupled with vintage and worn in leather. scuffed boots at his feet. he would talk lazily, a drawl summoned on his own accord. he would know no hue but black and white. his lips curled, he would smell of rich alpine, cigarette smoke and whiskey. i would watch him play, strum his guitar and recklessly plunge his throat into the unfathomable depths of a melody. we would share in cheap conversation, he would forget my name twice. he would offer me a paradise taken by the tounge. perhaps there may be a morning after.
we would meet in an office. at the very first board meeting. our eyes would casually rest on each other. it would be slightly awkward and we refrain from smiling at each other. he would be young and fresh from university. he would have hair the colour of sand tread upon by innumerable travellers. he would have a british accent and a lean, tall body that would somewhat hint years of polo and privileged living. he would be shy to ask at first but summon the courage to engage in small talk. he would eventually take me out to lunch. to sushi. we would agree on different dishes. we would find plenty of similarities and differences. we would leave flirtatious post-it notes on each other's desk. perhaps there may be a relationship in there somewhere.
we would meet at a mutual friend's wedding. he would be a friend of the groom, i a friend of the bride's. he would be a brunette, blue eyed, cute. unconventionally handsome. he would quote movie lines from every film imaginable and hum theme songs of television series habitually. we would be forced to engage in endless hours of torturous dancing and preparation. at first we would not be attracted to one another but as the weeks spent together accumulate, a sort of fondness lingers. we would spend the wedding day at each other's side. i would fall asleep on his shoulder and he would tuck me into bed. perhaps there maybe a call me after.
we would meet in a foreign country. i would ask him for directions and he would offer to walk with me. he would be handsome; older. he would be successful, conservative. he would mention that he was a widow but have no children. he would be emotional, yet driven. sensitive yet sensible. he would ask for my name and forget no detail in what i've shared. he would pepper our conversation with pearls of wisdom and paragons of proverbs. he would drop me at my desired location and tip his hat courteously. he will ask to see me again, take me to a deserted beach or mountain range untainted and unspoilt by human perversion. perhaps there may be an intimacy, perhaps an unorthodox connection.
we would have known each other all our lives, where we first met would be trivial detail. he would almost be a sibling. we would do life with each other and see other people. fall in love with other people. kiss each other at 13 on new years eve and feel nothing remotely romantic about the moment. we would engage in dead-end jobs, complain about the confining world of tertiatry education and spend weekends watching movies, emptying bottles of wine and rolling jays. we would graduate and i would move north and consequently leave him behind and he would feign that he didn't care, play platonic and distant and wish me the best and subtly hint the numerous flings i would have with strange european hunks. we would spend the last day before my flight in his bed, talking and crying and feeling pathetic but more so real. we would feel it, whatever it is. i would hate him for not persuading me to stay. he will refer to me as his best friend. perhaps there may be an ending to it.
love,
we would meet in an office. at the very first board meeting. our eyes would casually rest on each other. it would be slightly awkward and we refrain from smiling at each other. he would be young and fresh from university. he would have hair the colour of sand tread upon by innumerable travellers. he would have a british accent and a lean, tall body that would somewhat hint years of polo and privileged living. he would be shy to ask at first but summon the courage to engage in small talk. he would eventually take me out to lunch. to sushi. we would agree on different dishes. we would find plenty of similarities and differences. we would leave flirtatious post-it notes on each other's desk. perhaps there may be a relationship in there somewhere.
we would meet at a mutual friend's wedding. he would be a friend of the groom, i a friend of the bride's. he would be a brunette, blue eyed, cute. unconventionally handsome. he would quote movie lines from every film imaginable and hum theme songs of television series habitually. we would be forced to engage in endless hours of torturous dancing and preparation. at first we would not be attracted to one another but as the weeks spent together accumulate, a sort of fondness lingers. we would spend the wedding day at each other's side. i would fall asleep on his shoulder and he would tuck me into bed. perhaps there maybe a call me after.
we would meet in a foreign country. i would ask him for directions and he would offer to walk with me. he would be handsome; older. he would be successful, conservative. he would mention that he was a widow but have no children. he would be emotional, yet driven. sensitive yet sensible. he would ask for my name and forget no detail in what i've shared. he would pepper our conversation with pearls of wisdom and paragons of proverbs. he would drop me at my desired location and tip his hat courteously. he will ask to see me again, take me to a deserted beach or mountain range untainted and unspoilt by human perversion. perhaps there may be an intimacy, perhaps an unorthodox connection.
we would have known each other all our lives, where we first met would be trivial detail. he would almost be a sibling. we would do life with each other and see other people. fall in love with other people. kiss each other at 13 on new years eve and feel nothing remotely romantic about the moment. we would engage in dead-end jobs, complain about the confining world of tertiatry education and spend weekends watching movies, emptying bottles of wine and rolling jays. we would graduate and i would move north and consequently leave him behind and he would feign that he didn't care, play platonic and distant and wish me the best and subtly hint the numerous flings i would have with strange european hunks. we would spend the last day before my flight in his bed, talking and crying and feeling pathetic but more so real. we would feel it, whatever it is. i would hate him for not persuading me to stay. he will refer to me as his best friend. perhaps there may be an ending to it.
love,
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
thought #238- i could never belong to you
and it wasn't in the moment her face said things like yes and no, ever so carelessly like she was brushing off a date with the nerd to the high school dance. and it wasn't the fact that she was impeccably dressed, a vision in pastel pink. her innocence smothered by all that sex appeal. it wasn't the way she flicked her tresses, as if they were horses ready to gallop away upon command. and no, it wasn't in her fierce stride that made every man in the room melt and congeal at her feet and every woman wish they could either be her or kill her. it wasn't even the polite purse of her lips as if she were hiding its full potential, full bloom. but it was in the way her fingers slightly trembled, her infrangible exterior distracted by her nervousness. it was in the way she looked behind her back incessantly, as if waiting for someone to appear and get her out of this place. it was in the way she blinked, not rhythmically but as disjointed as listening to an orchestra without a conductor. yes, it was in her ersatz laughter that desperately clung onto every sound in the room, in hope no one would notice she wasn't having fun. it was in the fact that she was not altogether, not perfect, missing something so important. and i loved her even more for it. i loved her so much that watching her was as painful as being operated without anesthesia.
and as she excused herself from the crowd, she found me. her whole beautiful body pinned down by my presence. and suddenly she was unsure. what she wanted, who she was, who i was, what we were. and i cocked my head forward and bowed as you would to a queen, without malice, without jokes but because it made sense. and she smiled, stepping forward. but i stepped back. and suddenly she returned to being so unsure. all of a sudden self conscious and transparent. and i bowed again to her lack of totality, to her imperfection, to the blanks of her being. and she began to cry. because there was that horrible affirmation that everything was true. and everything we gambled brought us nothing but loss. and suddenly that feeling, the same feeling i had as i walked away from her, was shared between us two. she would never be mine, i would never be hers knowing fully well that we were what the other exactly needed.
love,
and as she excused herself from the crowd, she found me. her whole beautiful body pinned down by my presence. and suddenly she was unsure. what she wanted, who she was, who i was, what we were. and i cocked my head forward and bowed as you would to a queen, without malice, without jokes but because it made sense. and she smiled, stepping forward. but i stepped back. and suddenly she returned to being so unsure. all of a sudden self conscious and transparent. and i bowed again to her lack of totality, to her imperfection, to the blanks of her being. and she began to cry. because there was that horrible affirmation that everything was true. and everything we gambled brought us nothing but loss. and suddenly that feeling, the same feeling i had as i walked away from her, was shared between us two. she would never be mine, i would never be hers knowing fully well that we were what the other exactly needed.
love,
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
thought #236- if only you knew
and in that moment, that very moment she looked back and her hair dramatically flicked in an instance of brunette glory and her shimmery red dress (she saved up for three weeks to buy) embraced her tiny delicate body, i thought god you're so beautiful. and it wasn't in the way the other boys in my class would think when a cute girl walked past in the hallway, wolf whistling and salivating until her ass disappeared around the corner. it was the way an artist stood back to admire his painting in a sort of reverent awe or the way a husband would feel watching his bride make her way from walking down an aisle into eternity.
it was unbelievable. she was unbelievable.
and she waved and blew me a kiss and yelled on the top of her lungs that she would call me tomorrow before holding hands with that bastard from the year above. and he winked my way as if to say "good night sucker, i'm going to be riding your woman all night." and the thought made me nauseous because tonight they would fuck. not make love, fuck. and i knew she deserved only love and everything else; the necking behind the school building on monday afternoons, the feeling up at the drive-in movies, losing your virginity at a weekend party was meaningless. ridiculous.
she was worth far more.
and all i could think about, as she hopped into the car and stuck her head out of the window screaming how much she loved me, was the time i took her to the secret garden behind my house after her mother died. and there we sat with a bottle of cheap wine, a few joints and a goodbye note and it was perfect. we cried and we wrote our farewells and we voiced our fears and we sealed our future with each other. she told me how much she loved me and valued me and could never imagine herself without me and i thought the same but so much more. more than she could comprehend or ever reciprocate. and all the feelings of loving you and protecting you and wanting you creeped into me, past my skin and into the very valves of my heart and burst into an amazing reaction of hormones, emotion, adoration and the supernatural.
but all i could do was kiss you on the forehead.
and so i waved and watched as she drove off, her body moving further and further away until she was merely a single dot in the distance and in that instance i realised that in essence, i meant as much to her as that single dot. i thought it didn't matter how many times she appeared at my front door in the middle of night with tears strolling down her face because another fucker took advantage of her. and it didn't matter how many times we would fall asleep in each other's arms. and it didn't matter how many holidays and birthday parties and family dinners and funerals that we would both attend. because she had only visited the secret garden once and never again since her mother passed away. that time we were almost in sync that my heart ached. that one time.
just a single dot in the distance.
and in that moment, that very moment as i faced the opposite direction and lit a cigarette i thought the same thought that haunted me for ten years. if only you knew. god, i would of died to have you.
if only you knew.
love,
it was unbelievable. she was unbelievable.
and she waved and blew me a kiss and yelled on the top of her lungs that she would call me tomorrow before holding hands with that bastard from the year above. and he winked my way as if to say "good night sucker, i'm going to be riding your woman all night." and the thought made me nauseous because tonight they would fuck. not make love, fuck. and i knew she deserved only love and everything else; the necking behind the school building on monday afternoons, the feeling up at the drive-in movies, losing your virginity at a weekend party was meaningless. ridiculous.
she was worth far more.
and all i could think about, as she hopped into the car and stuck her head out of the window screaming how much she loved me, was the time i took her to the secret garden behind my house after her mother died. and there we sat with a bottle of cheap wine, a few joints and a goodbye note and it was perfect. we cried and we wrote our farewells and we voiced our fears and we sealed our future with each other. she told me how much she loved me and valued me and could never imagine herself without me and i thought the same but so much more. more than she could comprehend or ever reciprocate. and all the feelings of loving you and protecting you and wanting you creeped into me, past my skin and into the very valves of my heart and burst into an amazing reaction of hormones, emotion, adoration and the supernatural.
but all i could do was kiss you on the forehead.
and so i waved and watched as she drove off, her body moving further and further away until she was merely a single dot in the distance and in that instance i realised that in essence, i meant as much to her as that single dot. i thought it didn't matter how many times she appeared at my front door in the middle of night with tears strolling down her face because another fucker took advantage of her. and it didn't matter how many times we would fall asleep in each other's arms. and it didn't matter how many holidays and birthday parties and family dinners and funerals that we would both attend. because she had only visited the secret garden once and never again since her mother passed away. that time we were almost in sync that my heart ached. that one time.
just a single dot in the distance.
and in that moment, that very moment as i faced the opposite direction and lit a cigarette i thought the same thought that haunted me for ten years. if only you knew. god, i would of died to have you.
if only you knew.
love,
Friday, September 16, 2011
thought #222- i remember you
i remember you. you were that person who i met from a friend of a friend. another strange degree of familiarity somewhat beckoning for our paths to cross. i was awkward, you were you too but somehow it worked. i remember the way you used to walk, your long limbs swinging like a pendulum as if you were physically cutting the air in crisp, rhythmic strides. you always had that serious sort of face, like you were always in deep thought. brooding and mysterious. i thought you did it on purpose to make you attractive to women. i remember you. people always thought of you as careless and selfish, but i knew you were different. you would take me home in the early hours of the morning, regardless if it was on your way or not. you would call me when you knew i was alone. it was the little things. i remember you. you didn't talk a lot, but when you did you spoke veracity as if your speech were paint being splattered across a white wall. i remember you. it wasn't hard to fall in love with you. even when i didn't intend to. it just came to a point when i woke up one day and realised how much i really cared. i remember you. the way you laughed or embraced me or yawned. it was so interesting and defining. i remember you. you were that person that meant so much to me. at one point in my life. shamefully, at only one point in my life. because you left as quickly as you came. one moment you were important, then suddenly you disappeared. i remember you, you were that person who showed me how easy it is to steal someone's heart and how easy it is to stop caring.
love,
love,
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
thought #213- tell me why should i let you go?
i've tried innumerable times to let you go, subconsciously and intentionally. the problem is not that i haven't tried but that i keep trying again. perhaps it's part of my human psyche. struggle. or stupidity. or both. i'm not one to hold on to things i deem as useless and without purpose especially for the future. but with you, i just can't. maybe because i know deep down that i still believe in whatever you are supposed to be to me. not what you are now, but what you are supposed to be. something i nor you can't clearly see.
i've tried occupying myself with other people. filling my days with work, university, perving on handsome strangers, impulse buying, writing in this embarrassingly cryptic (not) blog, smoking cigarettes, hating on red wine and drinking cup after cup of coffee. anything to rid you out of my system but to no avail.
people keep telling me to not worry, that it's merely a phase. but that is why i worry. that is what scares me shitless, you aren't a phase and every boy i meet and potentially want to give my heart to will be compared to you. and even if i no longer think about you on a daily, quotidian basis and someone wants to love me and i want to let them, i fear there will be nothing left of my heart to offer. because you have it, you subconsciously selfish bastard.
maybe it's your indifference, your ignorance, your deliberate evasive, indecisive, mixed signal way with me. maybe its the way you break my heart and let me hurt like hell and not even know. maybe it's because you're the only person i ever really loved. maybe it's because it was my fault. maybe because things ended the wrong way. maybe because it was never meant to be and i just need to move on. irregardless of which maybe is correct, you must now there isn't a day that passes without you in mind.
i think in time i'll move on. and if we're not meant to be at least be the friends that have a coffee on a thursday afternoon, or greet each other happy birthday on facebook. the friends that wave at each other from across the supermarket aisle or while picking up our children from their soccer practice. but then again we might become strangers once again. another face, name, entity. i know in time i'll move on. but honestly, i don't know if i'll ever let go.
love,
i've tried occupying myself with other people. filling my days with work, university, perving on handsome strangers, impulse buying, writing in this embarrassingly cryptic (not) blog, smoking cigarettes, hating on red wine and drinking cup after cup of coffee. anything to rid you out of my system but to no avail.
people keep telling me to not worry, that it's merely a phase. but that is why i worry. that is what scares me shitless, you aren't a phase and every boy i meet and potentially want to give my heart to will be compared to you. and even if i no longer think about you on a daily, quotidian basis and someone wants to love me and i want to let them, i fear there will be nothing left of my heart to offer. because you have it, you subconsciously selfish bastard.
maybe it's your indifference, your ignorance, your deliberate evasive, indecisive, mixed signal way with me. maybe its the way you break my heart and let me hurt like hell and not even know. maybe it's because you're the only person i ever really loved. maybe it's because it was my fault. maybe because things ended the wrong way. maybe because it was never meant to be and i just need to move on. irregardless of which maybe is correct, you must now there isn't a day that passes without you in mind.
i think in time i'll move on. and if we're not meant to be at least be the friends that have a coffee on a thursday afternoon, or greet each other happy birthday on facebook. the friends that wave at each other from across the supermarket aisle or while picking up our children from their soccer practice. but then again we might become strangers once again. another face, name, entity. i know in time i'll move on. but honestly, i don't know if i'll ever let go.
love,
ps. let go and let God.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
thought# 212- i think i fell in love with you
i think i fell in love with you the moment when i realised i didn't need you. that i wasn't dependent on you to tell me that i was happy. or sad. or interesting. or fucked. or imperfect. because i was all those things prior to your existence in my life. i think i fell in love with you the moment when i realised i didn't need you to complete me, or complete you. that we could be two singular entities and that would be alright. we never needed to engage in nights where i would be on the phone crying to my girlfriends, in between spoonfuls of ben and jerrys, blubbering because you're the only one for me. or you would throw stones at my window, mildly intoxicated, singing "lover you should've come over... it's not too late..." i think i fell in love with you the moment when i realised you were beautiful not because you looked like a supermodel, or fulfilled all my fantasies but that you were enough for me and i couldn't ask for anything, anyone more. i think i fell in love with you the moment i realised i didn't deserve you. that i could never give you an assurance that we'd wake up the next morning and i would feel the same way that i did before i closed my eyes on you. you knew and you still followed through. that meant alot to me. i think i fell in love with you the moment when i realised you were the only one i ever really loved and ever really could use my heart against me. you were my one and only weakness. i think i fell in love with you the moment i realised i could never love you. not even as friend, not even as a lover. i could never be your anything for longer than an interval between breathe and inhale. that bittersweet truth, i could never belong to you.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
thought# 202- truth be told
i have had many days pass since we parted ways.
some mundane and monochrome, stuck watching the blur of crusted rooftops, busy streets and anonymous farragoes of flesh and bone through a vandalised train window. ordering a daily dose of caffeine, the smell of toasting bread, walking towards university, music echoing in the caverns of a broken eardrum, more strangers. slightly trembling at the cold weather, second cigarette, second coffee, second opportunity at quitting dismissed. reading a book, eating katsu, withdrawing money, avoiding "see your balance." repeat public transport ritual, return home to the silence of an empty, haunting abode. repeat, repeat, repeat.
some days are eventful and memorable. stuck between the reoccuring notion of a face and a name and vodka. happy to converse, happy to dance and forget the misery of living such an opaque life. another inappropriate photograph, another handsome stranger you've missed the opportunity of befriending. late night fast food, toilet bowl and pillow interchangable for tonight. loud sing-a-longs to songs you hate when you're sober but suddenly adore when you're not. you're singleness a reason for your recklessness. casual. telling the truth to someone you're about to kiss. no recollection the morning after. two panadols and a hot shower. never again.
but there has not been one day that you have not come into thought. not one day where i don't think of how simple things would be if things were not how they were now. not a single day where i hold your letters above my bin but cowardly return them to their hiding place. not a day i don't want to message to say hello because that is what normal people, normal friends do. not a single day where i wonder if you're well and happy and thinking to yourself, i'm glad things didn't work out with her. not one day i want to punch you in the balls for being so difficult. not a day passes where i pick up my pen start with dear... and never get past your name. not one day where i am not internally tortured, externally nonchalant.
i have had many days pass since we parted ways. truth be told, it feels like i've existed in only one since that day.
love,
some mundane and monochrome, stuck watching the blur of crusted rooftops, busy streets and anonymous farragoes of flesh and bone through a vandalised train window. ordering a daily dose of caffeine, the smell of toasting bread, walking towards university, music echoing in the caverns of a broken eardrum, more strangers. slightly trembling at the cold weather, second cigarette, second coffee, second opportunity at quitting dismissed. reading a book, eating katsu, withdrawing money, avoiding "see your balance." repeat public transport ritual, return home to the silence of an empty, haunting abode. repeat, repeat, repeat.
some days are eventful and memorable. stuck between the reoccuring notion of a face and a name and vodka. happy to converse, happy to dance and forget the misery of living such an opaque life. another inappropriate photograph, another handsome stranger you've missed the opportunity of befriending. late night fast food, toilet bowl and pillow interchangable for tonight. loud sing-a-longs to songs you hate when you're sober but suddenly adore when you're not. you're singleness a reason for your recklessness. casual. telling the truth to someone you're about to kiss. no recollection the morning after. two panadols and a hot shower. never again.
but there has not been one day that you have not come into thought. not one day where i don't think of how simple things would be if things were not how they were now. not a single day where i hold your letters above my bin but cowardly return them to their hiding place. not a day i don't want to message to say hello because that is what normal people, normal friends do. not a single day where i wonder if you're well and happy and thinking to yourself, i'm glad things didn't work out with her. not one day i want to punch you in the balls for being so difficult. not a day passes where i pick up my pen start with dear... and never get past your name. not one day where i am not internally tortured, externally nonchalant.
i have had many days pass since we parted ways. truth be told, it feels like i've existed in only one since that day.
love,
Monday, May 2, 2011
thought #200- confessions
i wish i had known you in a different time in my life. not at this current moment where my head is consistently rotating, my shit is all over the place and i don't really know what i want to do with you. i wish we were twelve and you liked me because i was the only girl bold enough to kick you in the balls (literally) and say hello to you in the playground the next day. i wish we were twenty one and i somehow persuaded you to come to europe with me and we would spend month after month in each other's bed and each other's skin and each other's heads until finally one of us would be courageous to ask "is it time to go home now?" i wish we were nearing thirty, sitting in an apartment overlooking a monument of some sort. drinking red wine (something i never thought i'd do in my young age) and listening to frank sinatra. exhaling our success and inhaling each other's. you'd ask me to marry you and i laugh at your face but agree because things are somehow right and appropriate and i can't imagine loving someone as much as i do with you. i wish we were seventy eight reaching down to pat our faithful feline (something i'd never thought i'd do in my younger age) and holding onto each other as if we were lifelines. intertwined beneath silver locks, the smell of must and orthopedic loafers.
not now. not when i am nineteen and indecisive and still unaware of my exact purpose. not when i am as volatile as the next natural disaster to strike the earth. not now when i want you so much that the moment you disappear or say you love another is so mammoth it could potentially deflate the contents of my heart. not when i need to know Him first, myself second and you third. not when i can't even figure out when my last cigarette will be or the last time i ponder about the universe in its totality. not now.
love,
not now. not when i am nineteen and indecisive and still unaware of my exact purpose. not when i am as volatile as the next natural disaster to strike the earth. not now when i want you so much that the moment you disappear or say you love another is so mammoth it could potentially deflate the contents of my heart. not when i need to know Him first, myself second and you third. not when i can't even figure out when my last cigarette will be or the last time i ponder about the universe in its totality. not now.
love,
Sunday, March 20, 2011
thought#194- sometimes girl
i find when we're together, everything is lovely and dandy and suspiciously effortless. the wretched suburbia, the cheap wine we drink, the faint chill of a saturday night is dispelled momentarily- as if we are two priviledged human beings to be coerced from the infrangible routine of seconds, minutes and hours. past, present and future. the rhythmic beat of air plunging into lungs and blood palipitating through heart- as we sit and talk and live. i slowly allow my brain to no longer function, to give reign to my heart and i find myself laughing hysterically over your antics and starring at your face as if one blink will peel your flawless complexion completely. i am no longer undithering, no longer indecisive. i am no longer questioning who we are to each other, what that means, who i have to be and who i cannot. i am no longer suffocating with what we will do next, whether i will see you again, whether this is casual, whether i will wake up the next morning folded between your bed sheets. i am such a future person. i always think before i do. but this very moment beckons not a forever. i just want your company.
i find when we're apart, i don't miss you. i don't even feel compelled to communicate, sip my tea and smoke my cigarettes in your presence. we live separately, segregated by what we cannot be for each other. i do not feel scattered though i ask myself should i be? should i be nothing without you? but that is foolish talk. idle chatter. we go on about our respectable lives, do what we need to do to be free. i carry the quotidian cross i bare, you sink into anonymity. the world that is so easily forgotten from the times we are together is amplified, magnified. work to be done, life to be lived. it is no longer us but simply you and me and the annihilation of romantic notions and the mind hibernating is left festering like projectile vomit on a highway. we are no longer bored but busy. held captive to our own jealous and dissimilar priorities. i don't even question if you love another (i never ask you about love it gets far too complicated), or if you think of me beyond the constraints of our encounters together. because frankly that is unfair for us both.
when truth be told is we are only sometimes people. drifters into each others existence. and it is not because we don't give a fuck about each other. its just the nature of our relationship. you are my sometimes man, i your sometimes girl. and there is nothing special about anything in between. whether this is a sad reality or not i still do not know. but i do know deep down we're both a little frightened to let anyone else, especially each other, in.
ps. that's how the story goes.
i find when we're apart, i don't miss you. i don't even feel compelled to communicate, sip my tea and smoke my cigarettes in your presence. we live separately, segregated by what we cannot be for each other. i do not feel scattered though i ask myself should i be? should i be nothing without you? but that is foolish talk. idle chatter. we go on about our respectable lives, do what we need to do to be free. i carry the quotidian cross i bare, you sink into anonymity. the world that is so easily forgotten from the times we are together is amplified, magnified. work to be done, life to be lived. it is no longer us but simply you and me and the annihilation of romantic notions and the mind hibernating is left festering like projectile vomit on a highway. we are no longer bored but busy. held captive to our own jealous and dissimilar priorities. i don't even question if you love another (i never ask you about love it gets far too complicated), or if you think of me beyond the constraints of our encounters together. because frankly that is unfair for us both.
when truth be told is we are only sometimes people. drifters into each others existence. and it is not because we don't give a fuck about each other. its just the nature of our relationship. you are my sometimes man, i your sometimes girl. and there is nothing special about anything in between. whether this is a sad reality or not i still do not know. but i do know deep down we're both a little frightened to let anyone else, especially each other, in.
Friday, December 10, 2010
thought# 178- fact or fiction
dear ______,
i don't mind if we're not ourselves. if you're no longer the person i fell in love with. because honestly i'm no longer the person you fell in love with too. i don't mind pretending as if we're back to the beginning. i don't mind sitting perpetually over a full pot of tea and a blanket of cigarette smoke, reacquainting ourselves. meeting like it was the first time- slightly nervous; you fidgeting, myself giggling. our heart chambers guarded, our minds conscious and aware- starring not at a lover but figuring out a human being. i don't miss you because you is no longer who you are now. i would rather meet you again and give myself a chance to miss you. not a fragment of your past identity, a walking epitome i inked in my skull. let me sever the notions of a mr right. an absurd standard no mortal can ever reach, then maybe we can talk again.
i no longer expect nothing. i don't want to mould a perception of what we are to become. because assumptions hurt. and i've tread on water for this long to voluntarily shoot myself in the stomach and give it all up. there's no such thing as what ifs anymore. i only think of now and the next. i am willing to apologise. i've mourned the death of what we had.
this doesn't mean i want to love you again, nor does it mean i don't want too either. i just wanted to let you know that it's time we've moved on. let go and remove ourselves (actually myself) from this subconscious fixation i've placed myself in for awhile now. life is to precious and fleeting to merely sit in one spot and wait until maybe where we once envisioned ourselves to be together to occur. maybe is superfluous. i just want to get to know you. that's it. and if the feeling is not mutual, then i'll know i've lost something quite precious in life. a tragedy that i will associate an "oh well..." to in public but never really get over.
love,
i don't mind if we're not ourselves. if you're no longer the person i fell in love with. because honestly i'm no longer the person you fell in love with too. i don't mind pretending as if we're back to the beginning. i don't mind sitting perpetually over a full pot of tea and a blanket of cigarette smoke, reacquainting ourselves. meeting like it was the first time- slightly nervous; you fidgeting, myself giggling. our heart chambers guarded, our minds conscious and aware- starring not at a lover but figuring out a human being. i don't miss you because you is no longer who you are now. i would rather meet you again and give myself a chance to miss you. not a fragment of your past identity, a walking epitome i inked in my skull. let me sever the notions of a mr right. an absurd standard no mortal can ever reach, then maybe we can talk again.
i no longer expect nothing. i don't want to mould a perception of what we are to become. because assumptions hurt. and i've tread on water for this long to voluntarily shoot myself in the stomach and give it all up. there's no such thing as what ifs anymore. i only think of now and the next. i am willing to apologise. i've mourned the death of what we had.
this doesn't mean i want to love you again, nor does it mean i don't want too either. i just wanted to let you know that it's time we've moved on. let go and remove ourselves (actually myself) from this subconscious fixation i've placed myself in for awhile now. life is to precious and fleeting to merely sit in one spot and wait until maybe where we once envisioned ourselves to be together to occur. maybe is superfluous. i just want to get to know you. that's it. and if the feeling is not mutual, then i'll know i've lost something quite precious in life. a tragedy that i will associate an "oh well..." to in public but never really get over.
love,
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