Category Archives: DeTodoUnPoco

I love you.

What does it mean?

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Old friend

The feelings I have now are not new to me. They are not new to me in the sense that I have before experience  . . . loving someone who doesn’t love me. The pain is nothing new, the hope as futile as I know it is, is nothing new . . .
The heart ache is an old friend, but for some reason this time I cannot shake it off. I cannot shake him off. As always this once, only this once I wish  . . . I wish  . . . to be free of pain. And in the end beloved by the one I love.

As I sit here

As I sit here I think of nothing else. Nothing else at all but the one, one and only  – or is it lonely? – thought. The thought, the thought, the thought like a plague that starts small and takes you to the grave. The grave of my soul, the grave of my heart, the grave of my life to end it all. End it all at once, but not my life, but not my soul, but not my heart, but that one lonely, only plague-like thought.

The thought of thoughts, the only one. But multiplying until there is none. None other, no others, not many and not few. An image and smile and then all it’s done. Done forever, done for never, done and done and done again. A cycle that never ends. A cycle, a cycle, a bicycle that goes and goes and never gets there.

A never ending story, a never ending cycle of cycles as it repeats and repeats but is never the same and always . . . always the end. The same end, a different story but along came a spider, a story? A cycle? Again and again I go. First, I was blind, then I was naive, and now with my eyes wide open and my heart cracked and broken. For what else can one thought do if it has already taken my heart and my soul? It has taken all, has taken me and myself and my oxidized heart, in pieces and stitched up.

Stitched up heart, a stitched up soul, a stitched up life. A life made up, a life created, a life lived and now pervaded by one little lonely thought, a life so full, a life so lost and a life yet found. Found a life, found a heart, found a smile and there it is. It is a lonely, little thought that kills me slowly and gives me life. The life of hopeless romantics which I am not. The life of  . . . of those I don’t want to be, the life, the life I don’t want to live.

And yet, I live, I live beyond this lonely thought. I live as if it does not exist and I push and push until is nearly gone. Forgotten it stays until the end of the day,

Mansplaining

Lets start with a clarification for the benefit of men:

When a woman expresses herself, when she speaks her mind, when she has doubts and or when she speaks at all she IS NOT ASKING MEN for their opinion on the subject, for an explanation, for help or for their input. So, stop telling women what to do, what to think, what to say. You are being insufferable, condescending and patronizing idiots.

Now to the issue at hand.

I wrote and posted a poem on the subject of love and freedom etc yesterday. A gentleman left me a very lengthy comment addressing the subject of the poem, but not only that, he also proceeded to,

  1. Give me advice on my love life. What bothers me the most is that he assumed that I need advice, that I want advice or that he is entitled and/or qualified to give me advice. Yes, I am expressing myself in a public manner but I am not asking for his or anybody’s advice. Why would he think that? Well, because men usually assumed their superior position when it comes to women. This attitude is condescending and quite blind to the fact that women are whole human beings equal to men.
  2. Explain to me  that my words were “to severe” and what words should I use and when should I use them. I am not opposed to receiving constructive criticism but I am oppose to people who tell me what and when to write or what words I should use.
  3. Tell me how I should live y life. No this is extremely offensive, so obviously offensive that I won’t bother explaining why.
  4. Finally, and this is the most outrageous thing of all, he told me the type of men I should engage in a relationship with. Need I say more?

Darkness Falls

As I sit in the rain and darkness falls I am surrounded by strangers and I’m one  in the crowd. The lights in the city envelop us like an electric cocoon, the sky, somehow seems fake.
I feel alone, somehow. I’m not supposed to be this way, I’m not this way, when did I change? And how can I change back?
I listen to the cacophony of voices , drowning in the nonsensical chatter. Why am I here? How can I find my way back?
As darkness falls I search for my way back.