weekend

i didn't think i would write again. I didn't think i would need to, that i got a break and in turn would give the world a break with my redundant white noise.

i want to vanish. leave everything and everyone i know and live on the streets in a place like India. Just day to day survival, no friends, no one that will hurt me, no one that will know me, no one that will want to...no one does anyway.

thoughts, thoughts run through my head so fast. like a highway full of them speeding by. catch one. one less sitting in my head. can't even think like i use to. broken sentences. short.

a friend told me he too wasn't ready. ready for what i asked? ready to be with one person for the rest of my life he told me. i asked how that made sense? basically telling me that he is in love but there might be something better one day that might come along? he replied with a " ya i know it sounds stupid, but it's the way men think. it's backwards. we basically need a mother figure that will put up with our shit and tell us what we need." all this still didn't make sense. how can people live thinking then can tell the future? there will be something better? that they will hurt their partner? the only thing we do know is that we will die. and if we wait for something better, the best thing in life will pass us by. I asked him how that whole "non committal/not ready " thing worked out for him. he told me he regretted it.

can't make anyone ready. i know. i get a slice of heaven. rare pieces of what my life could be. don't want much in life. simple and honest love will suffice. but i only get a slice, a moment, a minute. never the dream. never the whole pie. just enough to get me salivating for more and keep craving it. have to sleep. try to. nothing makes sense to me. my mind is washed away with Novocaine. i was "the one". the best thing. i must have not been good enough. enough to want me. not famous enough. not an actress. a model. not even successful. i can see why when a man has the whole world of young girls to choose from, why i would be just "the good woman". "the wonderful person". but nothing spectacular. just a nice cooked meal, shelter, coffee and some sex while on the road. nothing more. nothing less. perhaps just a rebound from that Brazilian stripper. at the end of the day it doesn't matter. i was not the one apparently to him. sadly, it wasn't the same for me. it's always "sadly". for me anyway. the doormat. the no one. the one that enters their life, is welcomed, treated like a queen and then for no reason asked to leave. i should have better manners when shown the door. not knock again. just try to find my way home. confused. abandoned. alone.

i keep reliving that weekend in my mind. like a broken record. tired. monotone. stoned in the heart. heavy. empty. and always alone. it was such a warm fire. such a perfect embrace. two reunited butterflies fluttering on the same air.

delete.

the sting is like vodka on an open heart.

shock.