my fingers are trembling, they're itching at the idea, they have not been so excited since glam rock. they want to write that email more than i do, i am more of a pacifist from middle up, must be my hands that are logistically or geographically challenged, they haven't figured out which half they belong to or it could even be some evil bone, just like in igor. so yeah, whatever it is, it's begging my better judgment to write the email, to write it and let it all out cause keeping it in is a bit like a hedgehog inside out, all the stingy ends stay inside. but my pacifist half wants to leave it all behind, be wise, forgive or forget but in an odd way it seems to be forfeiting. or has the feeling it does. my fingers must have gone to my head.
i won't do it.
i am now more a "je m'en fiche"ist than i am a misanthrope.
when two people are together, no one really knows what they have and what they're like with each other except for them two, and somehow everyone else around seems to have a theory or judgement about it. i say stfu. external theories on couples' well being are #12 on the "what sucks" list.
its funny. maybe i should stop at this. it's funny. the end. thanks for writing, thanks for reading, au revoir. but obstinately stubborn, i wont stop at that and i will say whats funny, just to make a point. cause it isnt. what's funny is that although i maybe dont remember clearly what i was doing some months ago on any given day, i have the "minutes" of this night, some years ago. and when i say some i mean seven. i even have that diary entry, in some old, dusty, mum read notebook. even the poem analysis or essay i was doing that night for school, of morgenstimmung, which funnily enough (again funny doesnt really have any humor, but some bitter ironies) means morning mood. what i remember the most is that feeling of emptiness, happy me became hollow me, i think thats when i grew up 10 years so i instantly stopped liking leonardo di caprio. or maybe this is an attempted joke. so who cares in the end, life goes on, we move on, time, flies, summer, winter and wam bam 7 years go by. no thanks, mam. like i have a choice! but i still obstinately stubborn say no thanks mam, i can build character some other way. i dont need to grow up. and i havent, somehow. i grew up biologically, i got over it socially, but something is still wrong, my arm is still missing, or is it my heart, or my brain, or my lungs. i dont want conversation, empathy or sympathy. i want to keep my memories.
i'm the only one not not looking, but the only one understanding. yellow moon is growing cold.
i got hit. i dont know why or how it happened. oh i so wish i had a smoke right now. so i got really hit, some cousin of cupid must've seen me and thought "i'd just throw a sorrow and nostalgia dart at this one, just for laughs" and he did, he did, the bastard!
"if you cannot bring good news than dont bring any."
so i mellowed down, tried to figure myself out, doesnt that happen too much lately, well i'd say, it does! and i started watching movies i made over the years, movies that, in the making, took me away from other important things, movies that no one thought were relevant (and by movies i mean some shots, maybe some pictures, a song or two all piled up, mixed and matched in movie maker and i had to make that clarification just so people don't get expectations too high). and these dumb movies, capturing random moments, people, feelings of my life made me the sentimental equivalent of putty. but happy putty. lets just putty it like that. :D
"i once held her in my arms, she said she would always stay"
and i realised i make movies for closure. i do. that should throw me right on the weirdo shelf, whatever that means, whoever else is there, in spite of me potentially already being there. and just so weirdo comes with some extra on top, i cried, out of happy sad nostalgia, from only one eye. only from one. like the other one was stubborn, wanted to keep appearances, wanted to prove that we're not all that sentimental.
but i'm also here, so here i am, all high on life, who to share it with, well of course, with my later selves, all the letzus coming back to this blog searching for memories, trying to figure out when did it start going wrong.;) a bit of self-irony and negativity is a luxury i can have when i feel as self sufficient as i do right now, and its a scary feeling but nonetheless a feeling of extreme power and independence. it'll go away soon to give way to life in the shelf.