I don’t have the heart to write anymore, isn’t that sad? To know that writing, the one thing you love and want to do with the rest of your life involves too much emotion – sad to think that by limiting our own or someone else’s exposure to hurt it can actually backfire; not help them deal with emotion but help them to avoid it. Writing has become too raw for me. That, and I’ve lost my reason to write. My love of God is the only thing that inspires me to write now other than the
man boy I lost. He used to say I
was the music in him, if that is so then; he is the writer in me. Too late though,
isn’t it, he’s not him and I’m not me. I was always meant to realise too late, perhaps because I’m never meant to be a writer. I can never write anything exciting
about other relationships, when I picture my future it's not crystal clear the way it was with him, no
matter how hard I try. They mean a lot to me, but they’re not quite enough. I
wish I could bring myself to blame him but I can’t because I know that
somewhere back along it was my fault, it always is, but blaming yourself for
hurt only makes it harder to expose yourself to it; harder to expose myself to my
inspiration because if it’s my fault then I’m in control. I only believed in human
love when it was with him but, don’t pity me, I still have God; what do you
Friday, 17 February 2012
I always wondered why people, including myself don’t or in some cases can’t write about happy things but only those that are sad. I realised that because happiness is good we are willing to accept it regardless of whether we understand it. Happiness doesn’t need an explanation or understanding but sadness... we are only prepared to let that into our lives if it can be explained and deemed worthy of our time. That’s why.
The total number of men expected to be in my life based on a complicated sum involving looks, personality, potential wife material, ability to flirt and general likeability – zero. The number of men currently sucked into the metaphoric tornado that is my life – five. It really is true what they say, men are like busses it takes ages for them to turn up, then five come along at once. Okay, so I may have edited that saying a bit but the principle remains. However I have one simple request ladies, and gents if you’re gay or swap any male reference to its female version, try to apply these five types of guy to your life and tell me if I’m alone in this swamp of manliness.
The safe guy.
He’s simple, he’s safe, he’s the Mr. Smith/Jones in all our lives. Just simple; a farmer or an accountant or a shopkeeper or whatever as long as it’s simple. Simplicity is appealing though isn’t it? We love things that are easy hence lists, routines, alarms, fast food! Well this man is the list, routine, alarm and fast food of your life with no added complications. Complications; hate, arguments, tears, bitterness or love. Love that’s what’s missing though for one cannot have true love without hate or some kind of strong emotion as love isn’t meant to be always happy it’s meant to be challenging so as delightful as this guy seems there is one fault. Do you really need me to spell it out for you? He’s boring.
The free guy.
You met once, maybe twice, but he’s stuck around in your head just because he’s everything fun and free that you think you want. We should know by now that he is that guy because you’ve only met that once or twice but there’s a part of your mind that will always wonder, what if? The reason this guy is even in our lives is because of that all important what if factor, the curiosity drives us insane. He was more than just a one-night-stand or that guy at that place that time, because you talked you connected and you fell asleep on his shoulder and in the morning he didn’t run a mile. He went that little past just-one-time and it leaves us ever tormenting with ourselves about his real identity & his potential to fit into our futures.
The challenging guy.
He drives you insane! You’re complete opposites, argue over everything, he makes you throw your phone at the wall and yet you think he likes you but you can never be sure and you know that you have a soft spot for him but you hide it because you can’t stand him. I do sometimes wonder if arguing will always result in “getting with”, in some shape or form, the guy because it could be a major contributor of sexual tension, although completely irrelevant it’s something to think about.
The fantasy guy.
He swept you of your feet and took you in a whirlwind fantasy of meals, flowers, presents, laughs and love. He stole a bit of your heart and I’m sorry to say you won’t be getting it back, it’s left in the fantasy world in which you lived together. My guy, he was quite something. A little shorter than me, tanned, blue eyes, blonde hair, chiselled jaw line and genuinely dreamy – yes his hair was dyed but for the record he made just as hot of brunette. But yes, he was so perfect you would’ve and many did think he was gay.
The friend-plus guy.
This guy is much harder to define. For some there’s a defining moment – he walked to your house just to hug you when you broke up with that guy you thought was the one. For others it happens over time – you met him in primary school when there was an awkward introduction involving hair pulling and you’ve been friends since. Others it’s a little more difficult to tell – the one that you kind-of-sort-of-know...ish. For me and for some of you, you don’t know who it is until it’s too late. I can’t really count this guy as part of my life anymore but he’s always on my heart and mind so in my eyes that’s sometimes more powerful.
So am I alone in this or can I live in hope that someone somewhere, preferably with computer, internet and blog access feels the same!