The smile

Reality bit. A little too deeply. The current confusion of this chapter doesn’t seem to have a suitable closure. The evident pain and discomfort, however, are self-inflicted and the result of letting a range of little trivial pieces of happiness affect the heart, despite the meaninglessness. And during this episode your mind’s foot kicks violently against the door behind your eyes. The signs are blatantly building up on both your shoulders because you let them.

 

“Life is a series of escapes.” Escape after closure, though. The notion of closure indicates a new beginning – for which you’re currently still too weak. Your pride is at stake and your conscience is plagued by guilt. In last night’s nightmare she grabbed you by the neck, hissing that life was like a chess game, the Queen’s job is to protect the King.  Apparently you gave up too soon. So did Lady Macbeth, bitch.

But you didn’t. There was nothing to save. And if there is, it’s not up to you anyway. Regret is not on your menu, but relief is.  The only problem is indigestion of that particular pain, which you only need to let go. Just like that. Then your pride will no longer be at stake. Unrequited love is not worth sacrificing for. A holiday in a continental climate is awaiting you; there you will finally be granted stability and freedom.

 

There is so much pleasant denial in fiction. If the denial is perceptible then why doesn’t it count as admitting? Exposure can be expressed in various ways. It has nothing to do with courage. There is no fear involved, either, just excitement and the attempt to feel something before being eaten alive by the people who love and hate you. Your only job is not to care and just smile. One day you will meet someone who will simply accept it and not ask you. They’ll just hold you and understand you that way.

 

You’ve consumed quite a bit of poison in the last few years. At least it didn’t kill you. You swallowed them like Cronos swallowed his kids. There is a little fear of being conquered by your own production – you’re awestruck. But whatever you produce, it won’t ever surpass life and the fear of shrinking within your territory grows bigger. It’s an exciting piece of fear, though, as it motivates one to continue the fight, despite the disenchanting string of events that pulls one down. Truth is you’re tired. But your will isn’t. There is still strength to smile. No one needs to know the rest.

 

Absurd would be to stare holes into the dark with no movement. The hunger for light is fed by hope and optimism – the only things to fuel your initiatives, but still no orgasms.

 

When I hear the Cloud Atlas theme I instantly see Frobisher in the bathtub. For some reason the scene awakens an ancient feeling, which is not mine and yet, it’s so familiar, frightfully familiar. Maybe there was a life I had before. But knowing that there is someone who loves me and always will kind of calms me down and it removes a little bit of my fear.

 

Love. And reality bit again. The only way to be close to orgasm is to be in love and not disconnected.

A few days ago I realized it’s not really important. Important is to make others laugh. Pagliacci didn’t become a clown for no reason. No one needs to know the reason.

We shall simply smile through the hole in the sky, smile through the crack in the window and smile at our own reflection in the lover’s eyes…

The rest shall be silence and not spoken of.

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