I'm trying. Trying so damn hard not to think about him, and just now, I had a stupid thought of us meeting again. I have just pushed it to the back of my mind for a moment so I could write about it, hopefully it will stay on the screen.
Ok, it was the very unlikely scenario of meeting him at the wedding of one of his friends. They were the 2nd people I met related to him, and they were very cool, thinking about it now, it seems like it was in another life, I was so happy then, and so was him I think. I don't want to think about it that way, my mind always betrays me and asks me "Why can't we be like that again" and then my eyes threaten to give out, my heart races, my breathing gets heavier... and then I tell myself STOP this. And then there is silence, in my mind. But soon enough, it starts again "why, why why WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY" and a more miserable image of me appears in my head, crying, begging me to make it go away, to make everything right again. In that surrealist landscape I can see a healthy, sexual me, but it's dead, I killed it, I feel no remorse, I put the cure away, and it's something I am happy with. Then, there is the romantic me, he has a guitar and is playing all the songs I've written perfectly, he's playing them outside his house, on the front garden, he is not crying on the outside, but I can see in his eyes that he is sad.
I look at all these people and I think, which one am I? The dead one? But I have the guitar? I think it is really a mixture of all of them, logically, they are all part of me, I just need to embrace them, even the miserable bastard crying on the floor, the corpse and the other, all together. They all agree in one thing: they don't like the present.
Ok, it was the very unlikely scenario of meeting him at the wedding of one of his friends. They were the 2nd people I met related to him, and they were very cool, thinking about it now, it seems like it was in another life, I was so happy then, and so was him I think. I don't want to think about it that way, my mind always betrays me and asks me "Why can't we be like that again" and then my eyes threaten to give out, my heart races, my breathing gets heavier... and then I tell myself STOP this. And then there is silence, in my mind. But soon enough, it starts again "why, why why WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY" and a more miserable image of me appears in my head, crying, begging me to make it go away, to make everything right again. In that surrealist landscape I can see a healthy, sexual me, but it's dead, I killed it, I feel no remorse, I put the cure away, and it's something I am happy with. Then, there is the romantic me, he has a guitar and is playing all the songs I've written perfectly, he's playing them outside his house, on the front garden, he is not crying on the outside, but I can see in his eyes that he is sad.
I look at all these people and I think, which one am I? The dead one? But I have the guitar? I think it is really a mixture of all of them, logically, they are all part of me, I just need to embrace them, even the miserable bastard crying on the floor, the corpse and the other, all together. They all agree in one thing: they don't like the present.
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