All Hail the Prophet that Was

"Just scared.

That i will love you like a foolish child, and you will love me like a dignified adult."

Anger, thats what i feel. No. No not anger, rage. Blind, murderous, cannibalistic, all consuming, screaming, punching, kicking, biting Rage. God the stupidity. I knew, I always knew that no matter what he said, he would never love me like I could love him. He would never want me like I could want him. And I told him, I told him I was scared that I was too young, and he needed someone whose heart was less prone to absolutes of emotion. I suppose that was s stupid thing to say. You make something horrible sound beautiful enough and anyone will want it.

But he swore. He swore that he was not going to be the kind that disappeared on me, that the fatigue of living three and half decades would not destroy his ability to love me and want me and like the stupid, naieve little fool that I was I believed him.

And now...

I am alone. With a man who doesnt understand me and doesnt want to. All he wants is to live out his life in peace. Peace? Fuck peace.

I want LIFE not life. I want passion and sex and madness and desperation and awe that I can reach out and touch someone so incredible.

He's already had it you see. He's done and now he just doesnt need it anymore.

God I am a fool. Of all the people to not listen to, I picked me.

And now...

Now...

Now I have nothing to say.

My Dearest Love-shmove type emotion,

It is so nice to finally have met you. I have heard much about you, and though not all of it was good, I have been extremely anxious that we meet in person. There are somethings that just have to be done face to face, and you my dear Love, you epitomise all that should be embraced in bare skin and stilletoes.

I was thirteen, when I first realised that you were more than just an idea. In the cruelty of a gangly boy a vast three years older than I, I realised that you existed in more than just the hearts and minds of people. You had a body and a shape and a life all your own. And if we were good little mortals, we might be indulged with a gentle kiss on the forehead as you breezed your way across time destroying nations and sparking syphilis epidemics. Its a dirty job but someones got to do it, you seemed to say as you meandered your way through my eighth grade art class.

Ever since then, I have been unable to put you from my mind. I even met your far more glamourous sister, Hate, and though Hate and I had some good times we both realised that we were'nt meant to be. I was made for you Love, and all I could do was wait for you to come and warm my life. And my bed of course, though I wouldnt think of that seriously until I was sixteen.

In the years that followed I spent a lot of time with your family. Hate and I have always been close, but Lust, Desperation and Insanity all came to play. And we had fun, though not always the kind we thought we would.

Can I tell you a secret Love? Every time one of your siblings came to me, I thought it was you. I thought you had found me at last. But then I would wake up one morning and realise that there was only the slightest of family resemblances, or that your evil uncle Alcohol had been playing games with my mind again.

But now Love, you are here... and you're not... cool. You are calm and stable and warm and comfort. Where are the wars? And the plagues? The asteroids that are deflected by the power of love? Cant I at least have a songbird that can tweet out 'Strangers in the Night'? Surely people dont kill each other and start wars because otherwise they would have to read the paper alone in bed in the morning?

Or do they?

You have bewildered me again Love. But just you wait. I'll outfox you yet.

Sincerely,
The Dragon

Dont read this post if you have never had a girlfriend

I have come to the conclusion, that I have never really loved anyone except myself, and I suppose my parents. The boys have come and gone, and yes there have been quite a few, but in all honesty, I never actually loved any of them. They were amusing and diverting and served one or more of numerous purposes (purposi?) and when they stopped being useful or fun I 'realised' that I no longer loved them, explained the situation as gently as I could and moved on.

If you are thinking 'bitch', then yes, you're quite right. I really was.

Ooh very clever, you have caught onto the 'was' bit! My life has changed a great deal since the advent of Blue nearly eight months ago. I know we all have ideas of how we will love, and who we will love and what kind of relationship we should have, but we really shouldnt bother. There will come a person who will simply make anything but themselves unimportant, and you will agree to whatever, because the warm bubbly feeling you get when you hear them say they love you is illegal to induce in any other way.

Strangely enough though, this post is not about the joys of love. I havent become that much of a pink puff ball, thank you very much. This post is about unhappiness, because with love and happiness comes hate and unhappiness. Its a rule, and you cant change it.

Insecurity. It is such a bitter word. I am faced with a past, that haunts me. If it was my past that haunted me i could still deal with it, but when the past that haunts you belongs to someone else its all you can do to just make sense of what it is that is making you so damn miserable.

I had a wonderful uncle who gave me the gift of sexual fear when I was very young, but its never been a problem until now. I curse him everyday, because the man has given me so much baggage that I can only dimly see the reason behind my raving mania, explainig to someone else is near impossible. When it comes to sex and love, and the way the two combine, there is such a mess of memory and hate and anger and fear and inadequacy in my head, that I become, well, borderline insane.

As a result, any mention of Blue's past exploits (and unfortunately for me, there are a lot of them) and I feel like I imagine a beer can must when some drunk man crushes it against his head. I deflate, I am crushed, I lose all former shape and huddle inside myself in puddle of what i was ten minutes ago.

I am not a possesive person, but the kind of rage and hate I am confronted with in these moments is paralysing. And i know that Blue doesnt understand. Its mostly because Blue doesnt know.

Ah forgive my lengthy ramblings. I love and I am loved. The rest can be swept under a carpet.

With this ring, I thee wed…

So marriage. I can’t say that I have spent too much time thinking about the institution. It’s always been there obviously, at the back of my mind, I am after all a good Indian girl and subject to the strings of the stereotype. Not too long ago however, I made up my mind never to get married. I had discovered much to my delight that I fell in and out of love every three months or so, and being perfectly content with the idea of doing it for the rest of my life I happily told the universe that love and marriage were not for me. I could not in all honesty imagine finding someone I could love forever, and so marriage seemed a rather stupid plan. And in view of all the horrible marriages I had seen erupt all over the place, it seemed like a stupid idea to even believe that you could love someone forever. I was saved from the terrifying trap that so many had fallen victim to, oh great joy!!

Right, so in this context, I have been rather solidly buggered. I have now been madly in love with the most unlikely man for seven months and counting, and instead of dying down, I appear to be showing rather alarming signs of falling even more in love with him. It’s terrible. There is nothing worse than being un-cynicised by life. You feel so profoundly stupid and generally childlike. I keep waiting for something to happen and for the rapidly diminishing cynic in me to jump up and say “AHA! I was right after all!”

Which brings us back to the original point of marriage. Once the subject was broached and I got over the initial barf reflex, I have discovered much to my surprise that not only do I want to get married, I have ideas about it. About what I’m going to wear and who I will invite and what is going to be served at which ceremony. Oh yes that’s right, I apparently want ceremonies. In plural. Where did I develop these horrible thoughts from? I have no recollection of ever consciously thinking about it. When did my traitorous girly mind form these plans, and how did it do so without telling ME?

Marriage, the life and not the day, isn’t terribly unappealing either, though that’s possibly because I am already living like I’m married to this man. I wash his underwear and he takes days off from work to look after me when I’m sick. It’s wonderfully comforting, and I wonder if could go back to my hit and run love affairs. It seems the guy who devised this whole ‘couple’ idea knew what he was doing. I recommend true love and mushiness to everyone! Go out and find someone you can cuddle and will respond when you refer to them as ‘Snugglybuns’ and Pookiepoo’. It’s surprisingly fun.