The smile

Reality bit–a little too hard.

The confusion of this chapter doesn’t seem to have closure. However, the pain and discomfort are self-inflicted. It’s 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. These signs are blatantly building on your shoulders because you let them.

“Life is a series of escapes.” Escape after closure, though. Closures indicate a new beginning – for which you’re 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 the indigestion of that particular pain of 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 waiting for you. You’ll finally be granted stability and freedom.

There’s plenty of great denial in fiction. If the denial is perceptible, then why can’t you make real-life people see that you’re on the same boat as the fiction characters? You can show exposure 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 to smile your way through it and not give a shit. One day you will meet someone who will accept it and not ask you inappropriate things. They’ll 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 will grow bigger. It’s an exciting fear, though, as it motivates you to continue the fight, despite the disenchanting string of events pulling you down.

The truth is, you’re tired. But your will isn’t. You still have the strength to smile. No one needs to know the rest.

Absurd would be to stare holes into the dark with no movement. Hope and optimism will feed your hunger for light – the only things to fuel your initiatives, but still no orgasms.

When I hear the Cloud Atlas theme song, 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 calm me down and 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 realised it’s not really important, but it’s important to make others laugh.

Pagliacci didn’t become a clown for no reason. However, no one needs to know the reason.

We shall 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 is silence and not spoken of.

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