Thursday, 14 June 2012

Of course he is no longer there. There being the serene, sunny, loving place of emotions where we were basting for almost two days together; 32 hours to be precise. Of course he would no longer want to make efforts to be there. Perhaps it is the fact that he is leaving in two weeks, perhaps the culprit is the setting where we get to meet, the group of strangers he is surrounded day and night at the hostel, or perhaps the doubt and confusion as to how to be with me.

Of course I want him more. The rejection adds to the enigma, and subsequently to the attraction of him. Of course his doubt hurts me. But I understand him, I understand him very well, although the pain makes it harder. He is not a child, like I am. He is a lost boy, a mature man that knows when to flow with his impulses, and when to reign them in. While I, am like a crazy puppy, drunk on the delicious taste of his lips, his touch and the love he so easily gives.

Ahh, women! Why are we such slaves to emotions? Why are we easily misled by the tsunamis of feelings that wash us over in the momentum? Why do we sell our hearts so cheaply? Our compromises, so dearly? What is it about this damn heart and romance that turn us women into gelatinous fools? Why the obsession? Why the stubborness in pursuing the same continuous mistakes? Some practical woman, must know the answer.

Tuesday, 12 June 2012

Today is tuesday, a very rainy day with strong winds. Poland is playing Russia in Euro 2012 right now, and my brothers are discussing which movie to see for movie tuesday; you know, the half-price day at cinemas in Toronto. I, on the other hand, am talking with an old online friend, trying to get him to say more than two words to me. I realize that those two words he says, are realistic enough to shut me up and make me think about me and about my life. Inexistent reader, what's your life like? Do you have mistakes you linger on? Regrets you secretly and perversely play back in your mind? Dreams you talk about but you let rust in your drawer of "not good enough, not possible"? Lovers you are too afraid to sleep with? Friends you keep just to not feel lonely, even though you know they don't like you? Jobs you know you could get but you don't apply to just because you are lazy? Do you watch sunsets and feel some of the sadness thawing inside of you? Do you engage in conversation and lose yourself in thought? Do you, inexistent reader, feel that you live? I feel that I live, but I don't live successfully. What do I mean by that? I don't know, ask the capitalist society!