Tonight. The weather was lovely to sit out. Maybe a cigarette would be good for some, a hot cuppa for others.. but a walk was all I needed. All I could afford. I saw a couple reading in their balcony - to each his own. A man running down the slope. I took a deep breath and held it when he ran past me. Blink twice. Gone. Empty spaces on the road didn't stop me from avoiding them. But what was supposed to be there did. So, the white elephant won again. My eyes float up to the window I walk past and gaze upon every night. Every night, the same story plays in my head. Every night, I ponder about the possibility. Possibilities..... I walk on. I hum a little, skip a little. And I just before I reach my door, I always wished that I could walk more. Walk into the night. Sit out in the park. Alone. Think.
And when the thought of thinking comes into my head.. I start to feel. Feel the anguish. Feel the pain. Feelings I have avoided for months now comes rushing back to me. No, it isn't about you. No, not you. It's just.. all these funny little things that seem to work like little paperclips to magnets. It comes in pieces but ends up in a mess. Just like us and the tangles we are always caught in. Inevitable.
Then I thought about how anyone hates to be told how they're acting. No, scratch that. We all hate to be seen through. We hate to be transparent. We hate to be read. We hate to be told in true honesty of what we really are.
And I turned the tables upon myself. Right now, I blame time. I blame time for change. We think we are all special to so many others. We think we're permanent fixtures in anyone else's life. But we forget, we are furniture. We get rearranged. We'd like to think we're bricks and concrete. But when time introduces the concept of change, the concept of revolution, the concept of.. different. We're then arranged. We become the "old comfy sofa". You're always there, waiting to provide whatever you can when you can. You aren't number 1 anymore. And that's how people can make you feel.
Not saying that change isn't meant to be embraced but I'm hating it now. It's like the Queen Bee has been dethroned. Like whatever you used to have isn't yours anymore. And someone else is the old you to someone.
Remember the people who said "I'll be there." So where are you? Sometimes I do wonder that. Or do they mean they'll "be there" when something really bad happens? When a farewell is on it's way, or a shocking tragedy comes knocking on their door? It is plain to see why people do desperate things when they want attention. Now you know that there's a little truth in TV shows.
I think of your voices and it makes me cringe. All your words and thoughts and feelings. It feels like I have created Frankenstein and hated it. I hate it. I hate what I have given so much to end up in nothing. I think this is.. selfish? Is this a selfish act? Do you resent the people you should love? I feel twisted.
And then I think of hope. Hope that sugar-coats the words out of their mouths. Hope that is so ready to devour you. I now hate the hope that people are meant to give me. Why did you take so much from me just to see it die? Why walk away and say sorry when sorry is just another form of hope for closure? Why can't you be a man and shake my shoulders and look in my eyes and be honest? Why promise hope when hope was never yours?
So you know, if you can't live up to it. Then don't bother in the first place. Finish what you started.
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So I'm tired. I think I had to kill the tiny ones in me just to blah all these out. Writing therapy. Ah. Onto good soothing music... and sleep... and retail therapy,
x L
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