I have resigned myself to the fact that there’s nothing profound about this man. The mystery is merely a cloak hiding the insecure being that he is. But most of all, I have resigned myself to the fact that my attraction to him is solely based on the RECYCLED qualities of men I loved before…
Hello world, I’m at it again…I walked right into the reverse psychology that surrounds new year resolutions. Another broken man. The song will be the same so why should I bother singing it? Yet I do…the taste will be different, the feel; possibly better! Every experience is new. But is that enough?
The pattern is the same as before, there is nothing here for me. But my imagination already sank its poisonous fangs into this one. Reality is brutal enough but once you set your hopes and dreams higher than the “required” amount, the fall is so hard that you are bound to lose pieces of your soul…and your heart, of course; stupid organ is always falling apart. And at the end of the day I have realised I’d rather be broken than have pieces missing. See, broken you can fix. But lost? How do you find the pieces? How. dare you try to replace them if worst comes to worst?
Very rarely do people live up to our expectations. Not because they aren’t worthy…but because we expect too much when in reality we give nothing to begin with. And that right there is my Achilles heel when it comes to the illusive emotion we call.love. My dreams are in the way of possible versions of reality that I can’t seem to come to terms with. And just like that, I write myself out of another frivolous emotion I had previously convinced myself to be ultimate and life changing. Haa!