Now in order to truly fall down this rabbit-hole, you must know this story isn’t true and there are elements that have been grossly exaggerated, but in reality, that is the smoke-screen. Telling the world the truth is a lie when you know it’s not. It’s a little counter intuitive but bear with me as I would with you. Or if bearing with me is too much to ask, then, that is quite alright since this story really has no purpose other than to express my obsession for what it really is.
My obsession is not with a person or them wanting something else even more, or even wanting to have it all.
That is of purest intent.
You see for all my genius I am broken and I don’t want to cultivate that genius any further because the smarter I get, the further away from humanity I feel. So lets ‘talk shit’ in a feeble attempt to relate. Truth, lies, half-truths and white lies are all common staples here.
Imagine meeting someone who could match that kind of fire.
I did. She matched it and then some. More perspective than I in every conceivable manner and more beautiful in my eyes than she will ever gather. No transgression will make me stop wanting that and she knows what it is doing to the people around me. That feeling, that selfless loyalty you won’t find anywhere else. My people feel like they are second choice because I selflessly give myself to those who are struggling, because I not-so-secretly long for someone in most of my actions.
Unfortunately, those whom we helped, those whom claimed to be making amends? They lied.
You saw it, but you didn’t say anything or maybe you did and I didn’t listen. My bet is on the latter. In fact, I would wager my life on it. Too many people told me my kindness is a curse and I was not going to take that from the kindest soul I have ever known. Over the past few months you have dished out the verbal abuse I put forward in a moment. It hurt. All of it.
I said running with me would only ever cost you your loyalty and a smile. I hid the reality of the situation, it takes a lot more to ease my mind. The hidden clause here is the price of loyalty is often misjudged.
So you can play my games for a season or a lifetime. You can say I have no right to be around her, but the truth is: the truth hurts. I’m offering redemption and forgiveness which as far as I can tell is new to you. I am the boy that won’t let go of the girl that dances in his dreams. I don’t want to talk to your catfishing persona’s whom all seem to play similar games to the ones I speak of. Why anyone ever paid attention to the rants of a dazed boy with his chewed up words and stoned out poker face, I’ll never know.
Indeed, I trained other little monsters to play even more monstrous games. A lot more than I expected, but play they do and they do it very well…
I deserve this unrequited love.
I wanted something once and I gamed my way in. I spoke quickly and with conviction. She liked it. The way we spoke, how clever we were. How honest a game we played. So all this preamble and dancing around a beauty that words and photos can never express, a very realistic and only somewhat glorified view of a person that touched my heart in ways I did not even think was possible. You want to see stubborn? You want an in-sight into the mind of what appears to be insanity? Here it is:
She’ll say that’s a sad song but she’ll never tell you why. I think it’s because every time she gets close to it her heart starts beating faster, that the truth of the situation hurts. It hurts because she had the wrong idea and even after she realised the mistake, she felt the bed was made and a grave dug. He doesn’t know, and rightfully so, he shouldn’t -because that is the deal. The game maker stays hidden. Much like the adventures you chose to go on with me, a double edged sword has emerged. An echo.
An echo of me.
If one is imitating the other how is it that the games being played out are mine by design? There is no excitement in your new predicament and rest assured one of your many cats have leaked the truth. I know your ‘tappity-tapping’. I know when your heart-strings are tugged and when you let the truth leak through the façade. I know about the trolls that live in my shadow. It may take a certain strain of reefer to unlock the right memories but somewhere in the chaos, our reality exists. I found you sheltering me from what would hurt me- endearing. I find you cursing me with my words- a rush. I find you cursing me with his- hilarious. I find you in everything I see, every conversation I have, every person I meet and it makes me smile. I didn’t know I was capable of this deep an attachment.
Once we stood outside a car-park and I told her I didn’t want to be the ‘other guy’ anymore. That I had been one for so many people. That I could easily go on the rest of my life with temporary, single serving friends. That I didn’t want to get attached to someone that would let me down, that I wanted my version of the white picket fence and it would involve us going on massive holidays and adventures like never before. I want to show you the world because only around you did I even imagine I could see in colour. Yeah things didn’t go to plan, I got lost along the way. Then I went and did things that I wanted for us with others… not because I couldn’t wait, because I thought I wasn’t what you wanted. I knew every moment you were being dishonest with me, I just never knew why.
Yet you stuck by my side while we drifted apart.
Are you confused? So am I. Rest assured it is not my English because this is the one thing I have proficiency with.
We may have hustled our way in, then hustled our way out and neither of us had to ever do any of that. You could have let me go when I went to Newie…but you called: ‘You’re acting like we’re broken up’. I thought that was what you wanted, but it’s more-so what they wanted. All I wanted were heart-strings severed, a game over, but with us, it is never that simple. Never that clear cut. So, let me show you what I see:
Why does the girl who can show me the world in screaming colour only paint in black and white when I am not around? Why is the painting on my wall full of all the hues of blue punctuated with whites and reds? The answer is staring everyone in the face but our anxieties prevent us from ever spelling it out. Its okay to be scared.
Now I understand that baring one’s soul like this is akin to being naked, and unsolicited it is as unwanted as a ‘dick pic’. I like to think of it as spiritual pornography. So since hello won’t get you back, maybe all the words under the sun will change your mind.
If not, I’ll keep writing and hopefully exhaust every potential story, every “super-cut”. Surely a new obsession will emerge from out of the woodwork.