God I hate “big talkers.”
More than slow walkers; more than faded Dockers and sidewalk gawkers, even more than misbehaved Cockers. (That’s saying a lot cause I despise “caution” pets who come in for routine visits)
I don’t hate a lot of things, except for the title of this blog and everything that rhymes with it. Let’s be real; faded anything is my fashion demise. But most of all, I loathe the scum of the earth fakers that spend so much of our precious lives making false promises to the more-than-worthy human beings that stumble through these acts of fabrication with soon-to-be-slaughtered positive expectations. Face it, you can only hide so much before your actions become a direct map to your deception. Tell me you don’t like games while you are literally the creator of the one we’re playing.
Nothing can prepare a good person for bad things, because to us, there is always hope. We never judge people by the footsteps of their shitty predecessors, we worry and wait for the trusted to prove their similarities, but we never assume that by default the world is evil. And that’s the fault in our love.
I am no better for my naivety. But I’m no worse for dusting myself off and trying again, and again, and again. Not because I have a time line (fuck it, were all gonna die anyway) but because we never stop being worthy of accepting new feelings. The good, the bad and the “I’ll make you feel so good it’ll hurt so bad”.
The pain of watching something turn out the complete opposite of the energy you put forth into it is almost like a tiny death. Thank the god I don’t believe in- that it’s not. That it’s just a bruise or a scar, not the end.
Sometimes it feels like the end. Another conclusion to a quick and pointless cinematic-like piece of shit. Wasting my time on an hour and a half of something that’s gonna go straight to DVD. I deleted my tinder account to literally try the live version of an interrogation. Did you do it? No. Who did it? I don’t know. On second thought, just kill me already.
Ok fine, spare this mug for maybe an ounce of lessons learned, but can I get a break long enough for an uninterrupted love-meal? When will I be able to see through this generation’s bullshit and formulate a way to protect and serve my mind, body and soul?
Speaking of souls, mines pretty old. I know this because often times I feel like I’ve done this before. Like I’ve lived through a thousand different heartbreaks and it didn’t make me any better or worse for it. It just was. And what was, was my purpose.
I never truly understood why so much misery and chaos exists around me. That’s the burden that lingers on a soul that’s seen it all before. We carry the weight of having all the answers but knowing sharing them will never be enough. We are the deep insight that fights to feel something beyond today’s predictions. Something more permanent and less forced; a forever bond that transcends all lack of truth and continues to be a never ending entanglement of brutally honest connection.
That’s some big talk, you may say. With big talk, comes bigger action. From me at least. It’s unfortunate I still can’t date myself fulfillingly. Maybe in my next life…