How strange that somebody can allude to know me better than I know myself.
It’s not as if I pride myself on being a mystery – that’s just a sum of my past. A world of unknowns, lovers tucked under the duvets, mirrors reflecting what the world wants to see, truth just a mere theory that one day could be contested.
The guy… he’s getting to know my personality in the depth that a lover would. Thing is, I don’t want him in such ways. He’s adamant that I find him attractive and he has such a way about him, the way his intuition for the way people are has been perfected, that I’m questioning my motives. He’s right about me bullshitting though. More mysteries I keep from being caressed.
“Why do you devote so much time to me?” he asks.
Well, sorry to break it to you, but maybe I’m too weak to allow this one bit of honesty to surface, like a bit of plastic waste within the deep blue. Perhaps it’s because my work has dried up temporarily and you fill the hours of lonely night times. Or the fact that somebody is interested in me, just generally. You want to find out information, you want to get to know me, and it feels nice. I tell you I’m not interested in that way, the way people get naked and exchange fluids, because I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. You stroke me, and I swell, I double, my ego becomes erect. Your absolute determined view that I must be attracted to you makes me want not to explain why I’m not.
He did say something to me the other day or week and it made quite the profound impact. It was nice to hear. These strangers in the night can sometimes say the nicest of things.
“Every time you smile you look completely different.”
Grey hairs are an indication that life is on the go. I have this rumble in my stomach to see the world. I want to travel. I want to shock to my system, I want to grow and feel and see the world in all of its glory. This isn’t even an unachievable dream, I just need for it to be out of my system. Everything here is… good. It’s… standard. I am utterly grateful. But now is the time, when things are good, to leap out and try to discover more about the world and in turn more about me. I want to feel something different, this is comfort, this is the usual. I already put restrictions on myself, there’s this invisible barrier that takes a good lot of battering before you get a glimpse in to who I am. Around this self-imposed barrier is another of comfort, of the everyday. I want to break out of them. I need a challenge. I need to be scared, I need new experiences to enable my spirit to grow.
This guy… he’s bringing forth realisations that I don’t really know myself to the extent of which I could and therefore am not able to fully align my spirit. Truth, all overpowering overbearing truth, is something that is stated to be one the main facets to achieve peace, or a state of spiritual habitat. This is my desire, this is what I seek to achieve.
While on a night out this weekend gone, a friend of mine, who talks with me about the wonders of how little we know, talked of our perception of reality. He always repeats to me that everything we see might or might not be real, that everything is but atoms either tightly packed or spaced out. At one point, a guy on the stairs stopped his girlfriend and became rowdy in her face. My friend, the boyfriend of this lady, wasn’t anywhere to be seen so I and other friends intervened and the guy promptly moved on. After telling my friend this happened he said:
“I don’t bother with that stuff. See, we’re all one. I don’t argue with people like that. He’ll have moved on without much bother.” And here’s the funny bit. “We’re all the same. We’re made of the same atoms. I’m going out with myself. Why would I argue with myself?”
Until next time.