smshngpmpkins-blog
this little thing called "life"
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I often find myself at decision crossroads about whether I should be thinking about the consequences of my actions or living for the moment.
Sounds familiar doesn’t it? Many of you intellectuals out there know this all too well and know that 99% of the time the thoughts of the consequences out-rule the spontaneity. We are fun, of course we are - but the iron curtain protecting our reputation is constantly on alert.
Let’s admit it however. We look at friends who simply don’t think. They live, they act and they cope with whatever those random decisions bring along with them. They . Have . Fun . And we’re jealous of that. Why can’t we be them? Why is it that our guilt, our morals, our fear of the unknown stop us from focusing on our happiness?
It’s time guys. It is time. This world and this life can be much greater than the one trapped inside our mind. Take that step, make the move and just bloody go for it.
The clock is ticking.
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“You and I could be anything. We could be just friends, we could be work partners, we could be lovers or we could be husband and wife”.
Has anyone ever told me anything more beautiful than this? He gave me the options, I suppose it is up to me to make up my mind.
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You know that feeling that you feel when you know that the two of you are both falling for eachother but you’re still wondering whether it’s just your imagination, yet you’re sure that it’s not?
Yeah. You know what I mean.
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The problem with me is that I do not know how to like a man, I only know how to love him. In three seconds of catching him smile at me, I find myself kissing him in the shimmering rain and promising to take care of him for the rest of our lives. In my head of course.
Fuck the fairytales for fueling our imagination into false hope of requited love. 💔
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Gentleman
In his eyes
Are a million lies
That tell a wondrous tale
A make believe
Where smiles deceive
And words no truth unveil
His warm inviting hands
Lure the coldest hardest souls
And melts them at his fingertip
The fire he controls.
The master of deceit
Lays his puppets in a row
The villain to humanity
Performs his wicked show
And there they march straight to the den
Unbeknownst of this charade
And there they go straight to his arms
A fascinating trade
They give a heart he throws a stone to shatter the illusion
Which he creates but all for pleasure in a twisted sexual fusion
And one by one I see them fall in this wicked masterplan
With tortures from a beautiful mind by which we call a gentleman.
s.v.
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And it suddenly hit me.
The trauma finally makes sense. I have been a whole life desperately waiting to be “chosen”.
The ballet solo I never got.
The trophy I never got.
The acting role I never got.
The singing role I never got.
The boy I liked which I never got.
The grades I never got.
The body I never got.
The pleasure I never got.
The romance I never got.
The admiration I never got.
The second child that I never got.
The man I never got.
The happiness I never got.
This is the trauma.
This is exactly what’s wrong.
s.v.
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But why do I love him so much when he cannot even be bothered with me? I swear to you God, or whoever you might be, I simply cannot live without loving this man.
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Maybe it’s time to go. Maybe I don’t belong in this world.
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