And thus thou hast returned to me, thy only friend in this hole and obscure world. Shut up Valerie. Oh, come on kid, let me enjoy it, let me savor it slowly. Such pain and agony are my life force. Let me drink thee drop by drop, let me become the one who caresses the slow death of you. Why are you here my dearest one? To play dreadfully our shadow play?
To open my eyes and see my own bleeding war wounds? In such a knightly way to say…. but not quite my dear one. Let me guess my Lord de Lancoir… it has something to do with this all new creation of yours, your madness, your play, and the eternal and unbearable pain that love means. Why would not you listen to me, I only try to help. Love is a waste of time, love is a weakening force that drags you deeper and deeper into a cluster of emotions and feelings, until you are all subdued and tranquilized. And once you had the guts to scape a wonderful and fairy tale like relationship you bought with unimaginable pain, you fall for a real one. Not that I want to insult either you or your dear one, but you are too bloody young and unprepared to face such a reality. Face it kiddo, you still live on your own fairy tale, and I’m not sure you wanna step down from that plane you are riding. Cause we all know you are all toys in the attic, I mean, for heaven’s sake, you are talking to me!
So my dearest and quite despiteful part of me, where are you going with all this? Oh my lord, such blindness to quite obvious facts is not uncommon. Let me paint it in watercolors that shine like pearl and blood. Have you ever considered that maybe this is just another half page story. And that perhaps all this uneasy feeling is based upon the fact that you need none but yourself in life? I say, love is quite a waste of time, and in fact a bad one. It hurts. It will always hurt, cause love hurts. It is basic and simple. But you may be forever blessed by the fact that you will not need no one but yourself! And me, dear Valerie will always be here to sing you to sleep. Cause humanity is treacherous, dark and full of vague infatuations that too soon become dull realities. But not our fantasies my dear one, no, not them. I will always be here with you. And so the legendary war fields where honor and might are wielded like swords and shields.
So, let me see if I got this straight Valerie. You assume I am a bloody lunatic, whose head is half lost in a world of fantasy I built for my self? And because of this I shall not wed nor love, since I am incapable to bear loves unbearable pain? One too many words to say such a lame, yet truthful thing. See you are missing the essence of my point. As always may I say. You will not dare to love yourself first. You will not ever be able to put yourself first. And that is self love. In you own dreamy world you can be such knight. But not in this dark, cold, sick world. Here you ought to love yourself first and then, maybe, dare loving someone else. And see it is not fear of harming yourself, no dear. You are well known with self inflicted pain. Both physical and emotional. Your fear is harming others that you love, or so you say. And the only thing you fear is a quite painful death. Cause dying in itself has no fear dwelling inside. But it is the pain, cause it won’t be inflicted by you, but from others. And that is your fear, that as with karma, the pain you may inflict unto others shall return to thee.
But this is not the end of all the show, oh my lord. I, thy truthful joker, has come here once again with dreadful insights. All rise my fellow… sinners? Accomplices? Fuck, have no idea how to call them. Behold my lord, thy diminishing family. Raven, Sabrina, Marie Therese, Marcus, Magnus. See thy dear… cousins? Amanda, Samantha, Bianca, Roger, Luican, The London Girl, and all of us puppets of this wretched god. Upon us, with us, among us, you have built your walls, your bridges, your havens, your sanctuaries, and in short… the last years of your so called life. And behold all the others. Now, before you, as you always do, start walking all along the crooked way, let me propose thee one simple experiment. Ask her. Ask thy sunflower eyes who you are. Ask her if she truly thinks you are ready for a relationship. Ask her how long does she expect this to last. And is my educated guess, that no matter what her answers are, you will feel pain. And no matter what her answers are, you’ll start to see my point.
You, as all of us, as Mia, are alone. You will be alone.
And worst, truth be told, the best of it all, is that you are in love with your solitude. Face it, you love it. Probably more than yourself. Which is quite a devil’s irony.
You are an outcast, a misfit. You do not belong in the crowded world. You belong in yourself. Cause either is that, or the plain and boring world that will never learn.
Life sucks kid. Now, chin up, smile, and face another meaningless day.
