Thoughts that walk on abstract art

Sometimes when I’m walking in the midst of the youngsters, I feel like my entire life has walked past me without giving me a single look. Then I realize how much I hate them because they get me all entangled in jealousy. No, at the end of the day it’s not them that I hate. But it’s pretty obvious who I do hate. The other day I was going through my memories; watching bits and pieces in a flashback. There are people from over ten years ago that I still think about. I wonder who they are now and where they are, but I wouldn’t want to meet them again. There is just not need to. Perhaps I’m saying this out of spite. Or perhaps I simply do not care anymore. If the past is nothing but undigested food, then it’s not worth agonizing over it. Throw up and have it done with. Sometimes I wish I was able to forget every single person that I have met.  Most of them entwine around me so that I ultimately feel guilty for what I do or say to them. Hostility is there to get rid of certain people. I hate it when people expect too much from me. I know when it’s time to give. First I have to make sure that you deserve it.

I like someone, but I don’t have the heart to ask him out. It’s not a girl’s job to do that anyway. Whenever I like someone I ultimately have to imagine us being together. I need to get the impression of what the relationship would be like. In such cases, my imagination is a Schopenhauerian pessimist; a fucking prick that prevents me from undertaking the first step of asking someone out. But ok let’s be realistic. He would complicate my plans and my weekly schedule. I would neglect him, let him down or even abandon him when he needs me the most and the entire guilty conscience fiasco would take a new start! Well, I can’t say really…I have no idea what my next relationship would look like and what a girlfriend I would make this time. Or maybe I’m just too curious and too scared at the same time. This time I will hurt the man before he gets the chance to hurt me, – I keep hearing this in my head and I don’t like it. If I hurt him and he forgives me, then he’s the one. And if he hurts me, he’s out of the game, unless you can give me ten good reasons why he should still be allowed to hit the ball. Come on; don’t take everything I say so seriously. I am only honest for the moment. In fact you have no idea what I would really do. So, uhm, should I ask him out and simply risk everything?

You should never connect your favourite songs with certain people. And if you do, the songs are cursed; though, not always in a bad way. “Folsom Prison Blues” reminds me of Nick and “Boulevard of broken dreams” reminds me of Matt. “Mr Bright Side” reminds me of all the wonderful boys in the Student Union, such as Gary, Joe, Pete, Antony, etc. I can name myriad of songs and tell you whom they remind me of, but I’m not going to, because it’s depressing and I will automatically look for that song and play it right away just to face it and delve into my memory with that person in my head. Whenever I feel my heart is shallow, I like to remember all those men that I could never have or could have had. The ones that I could have had bother me the most – self explanatory. You understand that, I’m sure. There once was somebody who mistook my glass of blood with wine. The first swig didn’t suffice; he still thought it was wine. The moment the glass was empty he realized what he had done. I don’t want anything like that anymore, you know. The recovery process took way too long, but the blood transfusion was a success, thank God.  But it had made me feel a lot older.

Apathy is a dangerous tool. Whenever you feel you need it, just make sure you take a single bite of it and not more. You can waste so much of your precious time if you eat the whole thing up. I realized that a fruit salad digests better…

I have this feeling that Modernism has taken a new start, since it seems to be the new era of broken dreams again. Everyone is broke. Everyone is so indecisive and it’s so contagious as well. People seem to have an elaborate imagination of what they want to be, but they lack of motivation and belief. It’s sad to watch, because I realize that I’m on the same boat. However, I surely don’t lack of motivation and belief. I only lack of time and space; the only two things that will allow my creativity to reemerge.

I guess, I shouldn’t ask him out.

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