There’s nothing like a dead afternoon at work to spark an impromptu d&m with a couple of 20 something female colleagues.
Thinking about relationships, thinking about “love” and why we use these titles and why these labels make our parents comfortable. Why do we have relationships? For company, for happiness, for sex, for having someone to look after and someone to look after you, that’s probably the most important part for me.
Although, what happens when it’s stopped being about the fact that you were in awe of this person, for some mystified, unknown reason and start being a continuous struggle to hold onto your separate sense of self and a constant pitiful arguement with yourself over whether or not this was just an abberation aimed at shocking and running away from what was supposed to be?
It’s always easy in hindsight to wonder whether or not you’ve made the right decisions about these things and alot of them most of us will learn to regret.
I’m so sick I being afraid of who I am and what I want and what I’ve done to the people that mean the most to me.
We’re always looking for it, the searching and downcast eyes of that girl dancing in desperation into the night, the stench of loneliness that permeates questions of separateness. It seems like everyone is gay and nobody minds, but it’s different if it’s in your own backyard, reclining on the loveseat, dappled in sunshine, disguised as if it were nothing.
Why is it that it takes a conversation with a stranger to make you realize that you’re not supposed to feel this way? Do we all feel this separate from one another, from ourselves, from our sex and our gender, from our appearance and our internal monologue? We all need to stop making excuses, it’s not going to be handed over on a silver platter dusted with icing sugar and rose petals.
It’s hard and I guess it’s meant to be. But a little bit of warmth in the winter is what we all need and if that’s not there then what’s the point?