Know me, know me

Two more friends will be leaving London in the next few months, most likely for good. So I’m just sitting here, thinking, why shouldn’t I? Maybe I’m scared. Maybe I really want to save up and get more prepared. Maybe I like my independence. It doesn’t matter, it will happen sooner or later.

 

All those lies weren’t enough or good enough to keep me here, but I still have fun transcribing them into words just to make sure there is a little bit of truth evident that I can filter out and use for my own purposes.

One day I’ll probably forget the significance of truth. On that particular day I will smile at you, most likely with a fuck-finger, because I won’t give a shit anymore.

 

For the last couple of months I’ve had this feeling that someone from out of space is pointing his finger at me, as though all my actions depend on that finger. I get paranoid, because I don’t trust it. It might want to control me or even go up my arse when I’m not looking. This is why I have a picture of the Devil on my wall, holding Jesus as his bow. The needle ready any time to hit me. Just a reminder to keep my eyes open at all times and do something.

 

The only time when you lose control is when you’re not aware of the next move. If you’re unlucky you’ll be tangled in your own web because you forgot about the wind. Same as digging a hole for someone and fall into it yourself. Why are we so bad?

 

I wouldn’t mind encountering someone real, someone who always keeps his feet on the ground; someone who’s truly there with eyes open, like my fairy-tale godfather Francis, who’s more real than anyone in this Godforsaken town. Seduce me with wit and wisdom and navigate me back towards my own direction. And after an epiphanic cry I’ll be fine again. Each conversation is like confessing a sin to a priest.

Disappointments drag one’s ego down, so much that one stops caring about oneself. And there’s the finger again, indicating that it’s all self-inflicted. It’s no-one’ fault. I think I’m done blaming others. Acceptance shouldn’t be that hard, although it did take Michael J. Fox almost half a lifetime. “God grant me the serenity to accept what I cannot change.” I always saw this phrase as a mind-fuck. All these psychological dynamics evoke nothing but trouble and put my pride at stake. In the end I’ve lied to myself more than anyone. See, I’ve evidently learnt nothing. When will I change this, I don’t know.

 

It hurts my ears when someone says, “I want to know you.” And for some reason I grow increasingly tired and I feel like simply saying: “Let’s just go to bed.”

When Lauren said: “What does that mean, ‘know me, know me’, nobody ever knows anybody else, ever! You will never know me!” something clicked. No one will ever open up, even if they’re dying to. What you get are half-truths or twisted truths and eventually it’s all down to one’s perception…There is no such thing as knowing a person.

What you think you know will be lost in translation of your perception. It’s like cheese doesn’t taste the same to everyone, but cheese is cheese, for fuck’s sake.

And yet, we still bother, because we want to get close, although it’s pointless.

But perception can be beautiful.

 

A while ago there was this guy who got off the train with his bike, he looked at me as though he knew me and I almost felt bad not knowing who he was. He simply said (without knowing me): “You’re the kind of girl I’d want as a girlfriend! Definitely! If only it wasn’t such bad timing, I’d ask you out!”

I just smiled and couldn’t decide whether or not to cry on the inside. I just thought to myself, “It’s always, always bad timing. Where were you when I wanted you?”

This won’t ever change. They’re all not within reach, just like I cannot reach myself sometimes.

I suppose that’s the reason why…all the could-have-beens are opposed against the not-meant-to-bes.

Doesn’t this piss you off?

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