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 want to save up more money before I take off too. Or maybe I like my independence here. 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 to make sure there is a little bit of truth evident that I can filter out and use for my purposes.
One day I’ll probably forget the significance of truth. On that particular day, I will smile at you, most likely with an upright middle 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 stalking me. It’s like all my actions depend on them. I get paranoid. It might want to control me or even go up to my arse when I’m not looking. This is why I have a picture of the Devil on my wall, using Jesus as his crossbow. The needle is ready to hit me any time. This is just a reminder to keep my eyes peeled.
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 web because you forgot about the wind. Same as digging a hole for someone, and you fall in it yourself. Why are we such bad people?
I wouldn’t mind encountering someone real, someone who always keeps his feet on the ground, someone who’s genuinely there with eyes open, like my fairy-tale godfather Francis, who’s more real than anyone in this god-forsaken town.
Seduce me with wit and wisdom and navigate me back in the right direction.
And after an epiphanic cry, I’ll be okay again. Each conversation is like confessing sin to a priest.
Disappointments drag one’s ego down so much that one stops caring about oneself. And there’s the pointing finger again, indicating that it’s all self-inflicted.
It’s no-one’s 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 learned 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 saying, “Let’s just go to bed.”
When Lauren Hynde 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 the translation of your perception. It’s like cheese doesn’t taste the same to everyone, but cheese is cheese, for fuck’s sake.
Yet, we still bother because we want to get close, although it’s pointless.
But perception can be beautiful.
A while ago, this guy 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 said (without knowing me), “You’re the kind of girl I’d want as a girlfriend! Definitely! If only it weren’t such bad timing, I’d ask you out!”
I just smiled and couldn’t decide whether 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 can’t 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 it piss you off?
