Ok, I wrote a similar note a few blogs back: A Letter to a Young Soul.
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Here's another one, still about the dirty word we all love to hate. The FORCE we try to fight, avoid and dismiss as too overrated, overused, abused, weaponized with high grade plutonium that will scare Israel into World War 3: love, luv, lurv, my dripping, sappy heart. Ick.
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| Listal.com |
But beyond all the poetry of that magical fantasy that everyone hopes for: To love and be loved in return---cue Moulin Rouge theme---I have not really met anybody who is immune to this kind of sea sickness, me included.
Yes, we all know, it's our human condition. It is an immutable constant, an incorrigible given and a sacred truth from which there is no known escape velocity.
You have a heart, don't you? It is biological then. It is a congenital disease with absolute morbidity:
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You will fall in love, kid. You will love with all your foolishness and affection. You will soar under the sunlight of your gentle lover. And you will be heartbroken by the same tender lover who will skewer your core with a pitch fork. Mwahahahahaha. 'told ya. Smug.
So here's the story of a young Romeo who went to distant shores to find the elusive FORCE. No, not the Beauty, Strange and all the quarks of String Theory! But LURV. Ick.
He found a lot of loving eye candies of technicolor dream coats and delights. But he could not seem to settle for any one true thing.
Then he found the "gaybor", his friendly neighborhood Spidey. They danced, dined, bromanced and closed the deal. A lot of times. But no happy ever after ending appeared to be headed for him. No meteors to shower their trysts with glee. They were just buddies to fill the buddy needs and wants.
Until he fell for him. Deep.
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| Alternate Sexuality |
He fell apart because it was, as with a great many tragedies that litter our English lit., unrequited. Sigh. Let the heavens weep and, Maestro, let the strings quiver.
So he had to cut clean. And cut as deeply as his roots had taken a home in gaybor's pecs. He had to break up with him.
He is lonely, miserable and alone.
He said:
"I stood outside my apartment, waiting. He walked over to my place in the middle of a heavy downpour to return my stuff. He meant business. He wore his usual gray tank and shorts, with him, an oversized black umbrella. As soon as I saw him turn the corner, part of me wanted to take back everything I said. Ugh.
I noticed he avoided any eye contact. I, on the other hand, did not. At the back of my mind, I knew that I wanted to see him so badly. I wanted him to change my mind. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled out a package from his pocket and handed it over.
'I'm gonna go before this rain gets any harder', he mumbled without looking at me directly.
I handed him his keys which he put back in pocket. At that moment, I caught a glimpse of his eyes. I knew that I had gotten through to him. He was upset. As I watched him walk away, I felt a tiny pinch in my heart. I watched him walk away probably for the last time. It was then when I realized that in the process of loving myself, I ended up hurting the guy I must have really loved." (from Tristan Tales)
So I wrote him a note:
Bravo! A brave front and a wise one.
Maybe loving yourself and hurting him will mean the cure from this syphilis which blinded you and him, him until now. Maybe it will cause the fog to finally be lifted between the both of you. His sanity might be rebooted and he will finally see you as more than a FB. I'm not talking here about the blue, Zuckerberg variety.
You have tango-ed enough in purely physical terms. You have rubbed enough of each other's skin after eight months of partnership on the dance floor. You are chaffed. Your barriers may have worn themselves thin in the process and you have, alas, exposed your poor, beautiful souls.
You aren't as impervious to the FORCE, after all. If you, the jaded player, fell under the clutches of that dirty, fucked-up word, shivers, would he be any less vulnerable?
The universe is perverse that's why we have comedy and laugh at our fates, as we cry inside. Ick (slap me).
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| Regretsy |
Give it time to sink in. He will be brought to his senses. After the libido has ebbed, I think, no, I hope he will knock on your backdoor (whoop-tee-doo) and win you back.
You deserve the gaybor, that person you have come to love.
--- 12th Curator
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