Showing posts with label Past lovers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Past lovers. Show all posts

Friday, December 25, 2015

Maintenance in Lala land

He never gave up either, and he didn't begin with the same chances as the rest of us. Well, look at him now.

I've been working on this blog for three days now. I'm organising my labels. Labels are useful; they categorise together same theme entries. For example, there is a label called humour. If you click on it, you'll be shown all humorous entries I've ever written, no matter how old they are. This arrangement will help readers discover entries worth reading that have been buried in the backlog of ten years of blogging. I understand that people may like my writing but not have the time or inclination to read my entire blog. Hey, I am the writer and even I can't read my entire blog in one go. So there, I hope the label system helps. I am not done yet and don't know when I'll be done. I am going back and forth between posts and labels and it takes time. After three days of work I was glad to see there are many humorous entries, a lot more than I originally thought. Humour is a good way to deal with despair.

Work is slavery. The hours and workload are exhausting. I have no good memories from Christmas anyway and now I have an extra reason I dislike it; the hordes of barbarians who want to do last minute grocery shopping. I wouldn't have guessed how vital eggplants and prosciutto are, but it turns out they are extremely important elements of Christmas. Who am I to judge the priorities of others?

I've been trying to get in touch with people without luck. Months ago I chanced upon an old boyfriend of mine, the one I was with more than ten years ago. I was very happy to see him as we had a good time together and I'm fond of him. He seemed happy to see me too. We exchanged numbers to meet again for a catch up coffee. I've rung him several times. He doesn't pick up. I honestly wonder why he gave me his number if he doesn't want to talk to me. He gave me his Facebook too. Doesn't reply to messages there either. It's really frustrating. I don't know what kind of weird ideas he has concerning what I want, but I just wanted to see him and talk about trivial stuff. You know, see how he is. Tell him where I am and what I do. His behaviour perplexes and hurts me, especially since I never mistreated him and I am the opposite of clingy. But humans in general are beyond my humble comprehensive abilities. I don't spend too much time pondering what is wrong with them or why they behave the way they do. I did it in the past and it's completely useless. He has every right not to want to see me and he's not obliged to explain why. And I have every right to consider his behaviour inexplicable, rude and hurtful. Then I eat chocolate and get some extra sleep because I am very tired and life goes on. What else to do? I mean yes, sure, I want to grab him by the lapels and shake him and yell at him "what the hell is wrong with you? I just wanted to chat!". Since he's unavailable, I shrug and move on. It doesn't have to do with me, but with him, and consequently there's nothing I can do.

Today I came across someone I liked years ago. Another 'what if' story that never took place. He moved to another city because he was accepted in university just as I was wondering if I should make a move. He looks as startlingly handsome as always. As per usual, I looked like shit. :D It's a joke how I always meet the ones I like when I look my worst. Then again, I don't know if that is the real reason I haven't had a relationship since Noah started building that boat. I don't think it is. In a similar manner to the previous subject, I shrugged and moved on. I'm tired. I don't what the real problem is. I never did and probably never will. These things are best left to chance when actual effort proves futile. Then again, chance has proved to be as futile as effort in my case. I just don't know, and it's not important. Yes, it hurts. It never ceases to hurt how I find myself as the victim or the spectator to happenings in my life, but I am trying to leave the martyrdom role behind. I want to keep myself happy. I have several books to read and stories of my own to daydream about. Since both effort and lack of effort bring the same result, I can only daydream, work hard and not think too much. Thinking leads straight into despair. 

I hope the new year will bring some long expected results of my hard work. And I hope I'll prove several people wrong. Living a good life is the best revenge one can get. I am angry enough to fantasise about not picking up my phone when I am better and they call me, but not petty enough to actually do it if it ever happens.

Monday, May 07, 2012

Dervish Wisdom


So what is desire?
Hormones?
Smells?
How about desiring someone you have not met?
Is that really desire?
Yes, he has done a considerably good job at turning your brain into a bitch in heat. He snaps your fingers, you jump. But you also bite if you need to.
Go with the flow.
The flow is slow.
The river is full of greenery that rots.
The waters are lazy and filthy under the sun. Your head is buzzing like so many flies.
You suddenly feel the need to kill.
You see your beloved Dorian in your mind’s eye snapping someone’s neck with his bare hands. It is a gratifying sight. It offers you comfort.
You’re aware of the absurdity of it all.
The Heart of the Ages sings from In the Woods.
A small black kitten is running and playing on your bed and biting your fingers.
Last night you were crying for that kitten and how small it is, and how there are so many things out there that can harm it.
Last night you were crying because the innocents must suffer.
He’s waiting.
Perhaps to hurt you.
Perhaps to hurt himself.
There will be ample time to discover.
And perhaps make amends.
The black kitten wants to sleep.
The other kitten wants to play.
You want nothing.
The perfect equilibrium of no desire.
But what is desire?

Friday, March 16, 2012

Dreams of no importance


Why do I bother myself with what your problem may be when you are out there to get what you can?

Then again, dreams have no emotional censorship. What I felt was a very powerful blast. You were trying to reach me, to get close to me, and I grabbed you by the face and pushed you away in the same manner a bored prince would push away a concubine that has tired him with her affections. You had three or four other men around you and you were truly desperate to get close. I was indifferent, merely treating you as an irritation. In the same dream I could see your house and it was spotless, but there was no kitchen in there. You were only eating cold meals based on very simple and poor ingredients. You don’t feed yourself on any level. You deprive yourself of emotional nourishment because you are an idiot of the worst kind, wanting to control everything. Control again, that old friend of mine. Controlling. What an excellent way to keep yourself busy in order to avoid thinking. I do it myself…

I pushed you away and you grabbed my hand, literally begging. “Please” you said. “Send me away, but at least caress my face.”

Now in the dream I felt pity for you and was more than a little shocked; you are not the begging type. Why, I would have thought you’d rather have your nails torn out than beg, much less beg a woman, any woman. And even less me. Then again, in the dream you were writhing in the arms of those men, and even as I pushed you away you still tried to get close. You were actually tearful. That’s what shocked me the most. You were begging me with your face contorted by agony and tears in your eyes.

Can you fake it so much? My sensible, caring side asks. Can you fake so much feeling?
You probably can. You can probably do a lot more to gain attention and steal energy.

At the same time, my dark side is having a party thinking of all the delicious possibilities of me hurting you, making you beg on your knees. Something you’ll never, ever, ever do in the waking world. You’d never stoop so low as to beg a woman and me in particular. Never. That belongs to the world of dreams, of my soul visiting places of ‘what may be.’ And I’d never try to make it happen either. I don’t think I can anyway; I feel very alienated with myself to believe anyone could feel something so strong for me. It’s not even low self-esteem as much as actual alienation. I can’t identify with the person I see in the mirror and see her as a woman, much less a desirable woman. But I digress. The only real reason I do not wish to go down that path is that I am not sure I’ll be able to keep my sadistic impulses in check. And if I don’t, heh. Then god/dess help us all and me more than anyone else.

Then morning came, full of distressing news. And right now I can’t focus.
I have seen similar dreams before.
Thankfully they fade away during the day.
Thankfully you have no access to me on any level.
I am safe, both from you and my dark side.
At least for now. Later on I may be a different person and not care.
I truly hope I will.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Black and gold and full of scales

[Wonderful art by Royo]

Today I am wondering again if you are happy.
Of course, it makes no difference what I think or believe. It cannot alter your state of mind. I can only change myself. Yet sometimes thoughts pass through my head like errand flocks of birds. The mind as the most ancient drive-thru in existence.

Sometimes I wonder if I want to know. I know I am merely cheating. I cannot live anything exciting now and try to find something more interesting to bother my head with. But my head is bothered and fucked up and disturbed already, it’s a reverse Cathedral of wishes, dark games and obsessions. I should not add to it.

But are you happy? My mind once more asks. And what had happened between us back then?
Who cares? With my luck in these matters, you probably had murdered me. Much like another person we both know. Or have heard about.
I don’t really want to know, to be honest. I want the naughty stuff without the painful details. Hahaha. What a bloody idiot. Wants a consequences-free sin. Like eating those disgusting 0% sweets. If you’re gonna sin, sin boldly. Sin like you mean it!

Will I be able to get rid of the past?
Will I be able to dance through the minefield of you all without ending up as minced meat? Burned, broken and destroyed? Because fully avoiding you doesn’t seem an option. I don’t know how stubborn you are as a person. The other one is extremely stubborn. And he’s about as attractive as that insistent, sweet toothache when one is teething. It hurts but kinda nice. One can't help but rub their tongue onto it.

And there are days I know that none of you has any actual power over me in any way. I can simply slip from between your fingers like a memory and leave you all rot like you deserve. I can simply get up and let you fall in the floor, in the manner of a woman that sheds her clothes.

Well, I am still wondering if you’re happy. And whether adultery is your cup of tea.
I promise I’ll add honey and spices to it.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Old things

I am so mad at you. I feel that no matter what I do, in how many ways I try to prove you my good intentions, what I get (and what I'll always get) is nothing more than a second hand opinion on who I am and why I do things. You don't see me. You will never see me. Then why the fuck bother? Why try to please? Why even converse with a person that uses me as a blank screen to project his obsessions onto? When everything that I have done for you is disregarded because I would not play snitch, and brushed aside because all that matters is my relation to your obsession, then why try? Did you see me, the person, even for a single moment in this long sad story? I doubt it.

All I have to do is close this chapter too. You are only meant to do me harm, whether it is a conscious choise or not. So I will just leave you behind. And this too will confirm your suspitions, but no matter what I do, it will confirm the wrong suspitions. I will therefore exit the scene, and hopefully I will do it with some grace.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

"Friends"

You fucking cunt rug. You despicable twit. Thinking you 've got everything right, everything fixed. With a few kind words. And I'll be happy again, like an imbecile, or a hurt puppy. As if my whole life depends on people's approval. When it was so simple: all you had to do was keep your word, and you didn't do it.

You idiotic bastard. You fucking, blithering asshole. Thinking you've got me wrapped around your finger just because you have a dick. When all you can do is stare at me, stare like a bemused moron. Till my inner light will blind you once and for all, till my face burns itself onto your memory. And I'll descend like a tower of fire, to touch the ground for a single breath before I take flight and disappear.

You will pay. Oh, how you'll all pay. I will make you all pay. Because you are not worthy of your title human, άνθρωπος -άνω θρώσκω, κοιτώ προς τα πάνω- turning the stare to the sky, unlike pigs that cannot do that. Because you sacrificed everything for the sake of your ego, or rather, your dick, because all you had to do was keep your mouth shut. Because that thing you've got between your legs, that fleshy protrusion is meant to be filling the gap between our legs in only one way. Like the sky would.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Drooling (in secret)

Saw one of my ex today, the one I could end up in jail for dating by age difference alone. Kiddo looks good. Big lie. Kiddo looks downright gorgeous, making me wonder what drugs the creators were on when they added the finishing touches. Whatever it was, it was some fucking good shit, you know? They should buy from the same dealer a whole lot more often. Anyway, kiddo says he owes me a hug, and I have to admit I am tempted to ask for more. It's really hard to still be mad at him, though he sometimes does have the tendency to let his mouth flap unchecked. What do you expect, woman? He is only 19, godsdammit. Well, I have stopped trying to be mad a long time ago. I just can't. He makes me proud just by being himself: tall, gorgeous, smiling like a bloody kitten, so very intelligent. His thirst for life betrays his true age. Oh, fuck it. He grows up and I grow old, but can't help but smile whenever our paths cross. Keep up the good work, kid. Kick them in the nuts. Way to go luv.