chainsmoking at the taj mahal
What is it with the unstoppable need to find someone? What is it that is keeping someone awake at 2:41am when they should be asleep for the sake of their academy life’s worth? The constant thought of human touch and runaway imagination about possibilities around a forsaken, lost town with the glow of an device searching for the nearest person who, in reality, has no interest in developing the same as you – even because you, yourself, has no idea of your own want.
Every relationship and encounter you’ve had previously has been a casualty in the short spam of time you’ve walked the green, yellow and blue land has disappointed and created an illusion that there’s a problem somehow. You’ve fallen in love once and it was mutual for a select period, then you moved on. You met someone else. It wasn’t special nor easy, dashing with complication and confusion, but you had something with someone and it was enough to make the idea last for a while. But it faded in a simplistic way. Then came another, just a plain mess that was melted in a mix of conflict of interests, neediness and the desire to have some form of power. The fastest to go way yet.
The dawn, thus, causes a train of thought taking you back to the first person – the one who made the strongest mark. It was easy, it was delightful, it was silent and subtle, it had the right amount of everything. That is what you seek again, not with the same person, of course not since that is the one who got away. Taking you years to disperse all they had wrapped up in your fabled-filled mind. How to reproduce it? How to be awake at late night thinking how dumb do I feel and how much I don’t care?
So you chain smoke until you feel something. When the air is self taken away by the slowest form of suicide, most is palpable. Most is real to mellow hours of existence as the water accumulates on eye lids as a clear sing of pure exhaustion. And then you circle back to the start as you check social networks for tiniest cybernetic human interaction.@3 months ago
I can’t do this. It doesn’t feel right, I can’t do this. I can’t hold your hand, come to your house, go out with my friends not with you and pretend I’m fine with it. I’m not. I was first interested in you because superficially we seemed alike. Superficially, we share a couple of opinions and we like the same things. Every time I’m interested in someone, I’ve no expectancies because I’m willing to get to know them – I got to know you. It didn’t fit, we didn’t fit. You have the lowest self-esteem and I’m stupidly narcissistic, I love myself too much to be with someone who hates themselves too much. There’s also this thing I always thought: I could only be with someone I can picture myself introducing them to my parents. You’d be my fiercest secret. Having my parents look at you and converse with you, I couldn’t stand to watch you open your mouth to talk about anything at all with them. I can already feel their judgment on you, and that’s transforming in this retarded shame on me. I would be ashamed to introduce you as my partner to my family. Imagining you telling them the same godamn insecure philosophies you came up with just because someone broke your heart almost ten years ago just makes me roll my eyes.
I’m being brutally honest. I am. That’s on you, too. You asked me to be honest about anything and even though I know you can’t take this, this is the right thing to do because I hadn’t notice the responsibility that’d fall on my shoulders if you fell in love with me. We didn’t even spend that much time together, that’s the worst of it. Despite that being weird brought us together, at first as friends, I had to myself you’d be a normal adult who could take on an adult relationship of the 21st century. I really thought you’d know not to fall in love after three days or to start acting like we’re three years deep into a relationship of the 18th century. Like I could possibly give a fuck for this so called romance.
And now I’m recalling this hypocritical thing you do, which is victimizing yourself, asking me not to hurt you. That is not something I would do on purpose, something I could do on purpose. Right at the start, everything was predetermined my fault. It is not. We’re in our 20s, we’ll have our hearts broken and we’ll break hearts a hundred times before we meet someone worth the hassle. Embrace it. Learn to love yourself before falling in love – you can’t dump your self-esteem on me, on anyone. Everyone’s been hurt and everyone moves on. Sometimes, it’s alright to be just like the others. Listening infinitely to sad, depressive, nostalgic music while you dig yourself a hole won’t help one bit.
Fuck sakes, you’re not even gay, why are you acting gayer than me?@4 months ago
Through mostly vacant streets a Baker from the outskirts of his town earned his living peddling sweets from a ragged cart he dragged around.
The clever Fox crept close behind, kept an ever watchful eye for a chance to steal a Ginger spicecake or a Boysenberry pie.
Looking down was the hungry Crow:
When the time is right I’ll strike and condescend to the earth below and take whichever treat I like!
The moment the Baker turned around to shoo the Fox off from his cart, the Crow swooped down and snatched a shortbread cookie and a German chocolate tart.
Using most unfriendly words that the village children had not yet heard, the Baker shouted threats by Canzonet to curse the crafty bird:
You rotten wooden mixing spoon!
Why, you midnight winged raccoon!
You’d better bring those pastries back, you no good, burnt-black-macaroon!!!
The Fox approached the tree where the bird was perched, delighted, in his nest:
Brother Crow, don’t you remember me?
It’s your old friend Fox with a humble request.
If you could share just a modest piece, seeing as I distracted that awful man…
This failed to persuade the Crow in the least, so the Fox rethought his plan:
Then, if your lovely song would grace my ears, or, to even hear you speak would ease my pains and fears.
The Crow looked down with the candy in his beak.
Your poems of wisdom, my Good Crow, what a paradise they bring!
This flattery pleased the proud bird so, he opened his mouth and began to sing:
Your subtle acclamation’s true, best to give praise where praise is due.
Every Rook and Jay in the Corvidae has been Raven about me too!
They admire me, one and all… must be the passion in my ‘Caw’, my slender bill, known through the Escadrille, my fierce, commanding claw…
[the cookie drops, Fox retrieves it — there is commotion in the town as the Baker gives chase. Crow is humiliated, realizes he’s been tricked, continues his song]
Ah, I’ve got a Walnut-brownie-brain and Molasses in my veins, crushed graham cracker crust, my powdered Sugar funnelcake cocaine.
Let the Crescent Cookie rise!
These Carob-colored Almond eyes would rest to see my Cashew Princess in the Swirling Marble Sky.
We’ll rest upon the Knee where all divisions cease to be and rootbeer float in our Banana Boat across the Tapioca Sea.
When letting all attachments go is the only prayer we know.
May it be so, may it be so, may it be so, oh…