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Love
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12/8/2007 11:04 pm [Post a comment] |
What do you do when there's too much of it? When you inspire it? When it follows you around and you can smell it and react to it almost as if it were pre-programmed? What do you do when love hangs around you like JLo Glow? When you don't just inspire lust, or bravado; but the belching of long-held secrets, the opening of old wounds. You boys are like clockwork...tick tick...tiiiiiiiiccccck. Little creatures that you are you never surprise me - and that wounds me. Am I to go through life unsurprised by illusions? Am I to go through love overqualified, three steps ahead? Even to the ones I respect a great deal (for men) I can tell you their next three moves - and I don't even play chess. Or maybe it's me "you're a fucking happy maker" someone I find genuinely unpredictable, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful and lovable once told me. And maybe I'm that. Maybe I was born programmed. Ever woken up and realised half your face was missing? Ever woken up and wished (genuinely - you would trade the rest of your life for eternal peace/oblivion) you hadn't? sometimes. sometimes. sometimes. You wake up and half your family are dead and you're "lucky" to be alive. Sometimes. Sometimes. Sometimes. You wake up, and you're a survivor of the fucking stupid. Sometimes you wake up and a truck has killed your family. Sometimes you wake up and you were too late to save someone. Sometimes you wake up and you're wanted for murder. Sometimes you are on Primrose hill, and a beutiful person who knows loss is making you laugh - amongst the ashes of a man whose last act on Earth were to kiss you. Someone makes you laugh, someone who lived through pain - don't take pain lightly here. That person knows the little fluttering broken heart you cup like a candle flame. Nothing I do in my life will be as cool as what you would have done with yours Baby. Nothing I did , with the exception of my daughter (who has your name as a middle name) is enough to remember you by. Nothing that happens from here on in will ever affect me the way you did. Not just because you were an idiot and died (note to you - d'oh!) not just because you left me on the precipice of something cool, not just because you were beautiful, and funny, and more than I needed. Sometimes you're a survivor of the fucking stupid. Sometimes we win a Darwin award. Sometimes we dream of a shotgun ending a turmoil - but we don't mean it. Sometimes I dream all kinds of stupid stuff. About this time of year, I dream that you can touch me and hold me. About this time of year I calculate how much less guilty I fell about you being dead. About this time of year, I scream and cry and snot and tear at my hair and bang my head against a wall and drink too much and consider finding your mum to tell her about my daughter like she told me about your letters at the funeral. I loved you. I LOVED YOU. Everyone's paying for it now. |
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View my blog 12/9/2007 6:46 am [Add a Comment] [quote] |
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View my blog 12/9/2007 4:19 pm [Add a Comment] [quote] |
Im sorry dear. Its hell to love and lose someone..I dont need to tell you that. I wish you happy days in future. xoxo
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View my blog 12/10/2007 6:25 am [Add a Comment] [quote] |
"Ever woken up and realized half your face was missing?" To which I would add, in some cases, "half our souls as well". Putting it all out "here" is a good necessary thing. ALT has much superficiality but there is depth of caring also and connections not found anywhere else. We read, we share the pain and the preceding joy that lead to it. Because the former would not be nearly as sharp if the latter hadn't be simply *radiant*.
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