The premature end of it all

Its been a trying few months for me. My personal life is settling down for the very first time in almost 2 years and I've started to take the future a bit more seriously. However my professional life is currently in limbo.

I am gainfully employed and I feel like I still enjoy what I do, but honestly I am no longer learning anything from work. I have always longed for the ability to create change in the world. One way to do that is to change the way people perceive something, so my job was perfect for that.

However I reconsidered my choice of career lately after meeting someone who crushed my spirit. Sounds dramatic, but it really wasn't. She just systematically took apart everything I knew and made me doubt whatever I did. I shamefully gave into her intimidation and made my own fuck-ups.

So to cut a long sad story short, she muscled me out. Out of some place I tried to commit to and tried to make it work. She took something I thought was mine and mine always. She took away my confidence. Stole it away and I stand empty right now.

This will not stop me from being good at what I do, but I still have doubts about myself. Its been over a month and they still exist.

Maybe that's why I'm so mad, not because of what she did or how she did, but how it affected me. It shouldn't have, especially since I've met my share of difficult people. Still I took it like a little bitch and it sucked.

Well that's all I have to say right now. Not proud of it, but it happened.

Peace.

This is a story of a girl

This is a true story about a girl. She frowned upon the world that was mine and I stayed like a satellite around her atmosphere.

I was hooked on her like I would if she was crack. The smell of her skin brought back memories of the bakery down my lane. The innonence of fresh baked bread.

I was hooked.

She didn't know this though and I didn't know how to tell her. The words to say why I could not bear to not spend any day without her, did not come out. Not easily and not coherently.

So this is a story about a girl. Just a girl who smiles. A girl who laughs and makes bad jokes a lot.

The story doesn't end early nor does it contain twists and turns that make me stand at the edge of my seat. Her narrative doesn't end either as I cannot write about her life as I am experiencing it day by day and due to selfishness, I have no wish to share this with anyone.

I am smitten.

Bitten by the bug of feelings long thought shackled. She does that to me. Frees me from the last vestiges of a joyous prison I kept myself within out of fear. She stood up for me and didn't even know it.

I am thankful.

She does not judge what most people would consider a sordid past and a lack of rational explanation for actions. I didn't realise this either, but when I looked to her, I just said thank you. Nothing else.

I am saddened.

The knowledge that I have within me the capacity to cause emotional hurt does not sit well with me. I have kept it within control all the time, but in all honesty I know that it is merely a matter of time. Time I have tried to extend and will continue to try as long as I can.

I am lost.

Usually I look to the other for guidance as life is complicated enough as it is, without having to consider feelings and something as illogical as a relationship. However I am taking a more decisive role in this and I am not used to it. I prefer being the fixer and not the pilot.

So onwards continues the story of a girl. A young and innocent girl.

Peace.

Frustratingly silent I do keep

Let's step away from my current fixation for a minute to discuss something that has been bugging me. How do you let someone know, they are not as good as they think they are?

I'm not saying they are stupid or incompetent, but they have such an inflated impression of themselves it is quite scary.

What can you and what should you do?

I've often stated honesty is the best policy. From continuous experience I have found that to be utter and complete bullshit. It is not only the worst policy, it is a painful policy that gets you kicked in the groin.

Does it? You ask innocently. Yes, yes it does.

So coming back to my problems, because let's face it, this blog is about me and everything I want to talk about.

What do you say to people like that?

I can't quite handle them nowadays. I never could to be honest, but then again I always smiled and let it go. However now I am constantly being forced to deal with them and it is killing me slowly on the inside.

They are not stupid, let me remind you about this. I know this, but how can they not realise how pompous they sound. I know I sound pompous, cos I am pompous.

Well this was just a short rant to be honest. No specifics, no hating, no scenarios. Just a rant.

Yay.

Peace.

Would you lie to me

I twirled her hair in my hand as she rested her head on my chest. It was getting a bit uncomfortable, because I was constantly flexed in order to give the impression I had well developed pectoral muscles.

I don't.

Continuing to twirl away I tried to think about something else. It didn't work, so I traced my finger down the side of her face. Her eyes looked up at me and she smiled.

We'd been lying down on my bed in silence for the past 20 minutes. We were fully clothed and at no point had I even tried to cop a feel so to speak.

This was not by choice I assure you. She wasn't ready and I respected her enough to wait. I hated every minute of this frustratingly temptation-filled celibacy, but I kept my hands to myself and ensured I had plenty of cold showers and masturbation sessions. I also remembered I needed a new box of tissues for my room. It was not completely unrelated to what I had just stated.

She whispered something so softly I didn't quite catch it. I made encouraging sounds too preoccupied with my throbbing chest and my tightening underwear. I looked back down at her and she was still looking at me questioningly. 

She whispered the same question again, "Would you lie to me?"

"No", I said.

I meant it.

For now.

Only time will tell if I can be this person she thinks I am.

Peace.

Racist Girl: The last call

"Hello."

Her voice still sounded good even though I could tell she'd just woken up.

"Hey", I said, "I didn't realise I was waking you up. Are you in the country now?"

"No, I'm in London right now." She seemed to be more awake now, maybe even glad to hear my voice? I didn't know and I thrust that thought from my mind.

"Shall I call back later?", I inquired, totally not meaning it and she knew it.

We both laughed together, it being reminiscent of happier times gone by. I think there was a bit of longing on both sides of the phone, but like always, we never actually acknowledged it.

Her voice brought back the memories, both happy and wildly sad, making me pause before I rushed into it. I knew I had to, before I lost my nerve.

I told her that I had started to see other people again. Not just for a quick romp in the dark, but because I wanted to and because I had met someone who reminded me of her, while at the same time was totally different.

I wanted to tell her that she was the exact opposite in fact, a person who I was not used to liking, but at the same time seemed to embody everything I needed. I didn't though, I couldn't do it to be more honest.

She didn't say anything after that. I knew she was still listening. She wouldn't say anything.

I talked for a bit more, asking her how she was doing. Her forced cheerful voice on the end of the line did not sit well with me. I felt guilty for some reason. I wanted to say, I'd waited for her to look at me the same way she used for so long, but she never did.

I found that someone who would look at me like that.

We ended the call awkwardly. I ran out of things to say and she never really said anything at all.

It shouldn't end this way I thought. I wondered what she was thinking. Maybe she went right back to sleep afterwards. Maybe she didn't.

I hoped it wasn't going to be our last call.

Chances our it might be though.

Peace. 

I'll take the last train home

Every time we end the night, I immediately wonder how am I going to get home.The night was warm as usual and the usual 5 drinks had me slightly flushed and a bit hot under the collar.

She seemed fine even though she'd matched me drink for drink.

I felt slightly ashamed.

The conversation started again, about how this night was amazing and we had so much fun. I didn't take part in it as my friends seemed to not really care that much about the responses, but more about the tone of their words. We had a good time you see.

She didn't take part either and when our eyes met, she smiled slightly, as if to say, "We always have a good night, so why bother having this talk every single time." I smiled back too, simply because I didn't know what else I could do.

The voices seemed to have died down slightly as people were wandering around aimlessly looking for cabs or messaging people on their stupid smart phones. I blamed smart phones for a lot of things, one of them being the demise in interpersonal relationships.

I looked at my watch in the dark and struggled to make out the luminescent hour and minute hands as they told me it was nearing the midnight hour. Trains stop at midnight around here. Time to get my walk on.

I made my farewells, put a smile on face and thrust my hands in my pockets as I started the short walk to the train station. I'll make the last train home I said to myself.

A voice called out behind me and I stopped, turning around confused as to why I must be called away again since I had already made my final farewells. She was waving to me and walking rather slowly I thought, in my direction.

"I'll join you in the train, we're going in the same direction anyways.", she said sweetly.

My skin above my lip started to sweat. I blamed the muggy weather.

I didn't say anything, but slowed down till she caught up with me and we walked in silence to the train. Our steps moving in sync, so they created an echo effect when our heels hit the dry pavement. She held my hand.

I held hers back.

We both caught the last train home.

Peace.

I sent you a text

"Come join me if you're done", I texted her, regretting the moment I pressed the 'sent' button. She'll think I'm lame, I lamented to myself in a 1950s sorta way. I cursed a bit longer as I savoured the cigarette smoke-filled air outside the bar. My phone vibrated.

"I'll be there!!!" the reply seemed to scream at me. The exclamation points could have been the cause, but it was more likely the deep excitement I felt. At the same time, my stomach churned and my legs turned to jelly. What have I done!?

I went back inside the bar slowly. My friends called out to me, but all I could do was wave and point to the bar. I need a drink I mimed rather unconvincingly. They were too preoccupied to notice to be honest. I went to the bar anyway.

I nursed a cold one that I didn't want and couldn't enjoy. Why did she reply I screamed at myself. I felt the stares at the bar, because, I realised, I had cursed out loud.

Fear gripped me tightly like a long distance lover when we meet for that oh-so short time.

I hoped she wouldn't come, while wishing she would hurry up.

Drink in hand I ventured outside the bar again slowly. Drink in hand I looked up and there she was. Drink in hand I smiled.

Everything was going to be all right.

Peace.