Saturday, May 07, 2011

How much irony?

How much irony can one take? I ran away to get away from my Father but, I only fell in-likeness with a reflection of him. At first it was quite beautiful, not caring and witnessing him as I opened my tired eyes.

But as I grew farther away from the one man I hated I grew closer to a younger version of him. He was something I craved for - a bad boy. He had such a pretty face, marble blue eyes and honey coloured hair. He also had God-like hands that easily explored my body. He smelled like the ocean, so calm and quiet. He was what I adored, wanted, needed and craved for. And, just as I thought irony ended it spat more in my face.

He was like my silent addiction. Just like the one my father and him shared. As pure as the cocaine their body craved, I wanted our hearts to beat to the same rhythm. Was it even humanly possible to love a reflection of someone you HATED? But then again was I that rude to assume I was human? What if I was a lost soul, a sad ghost or a hideous monster?

He always gave me mixed signals, made me insecure and unsure of him, myself and our "Relationship". I was giving up but I never gave up until i get exactly what I wanted. And I wanted him so badly. To adore him and to victoriously call him mine. Was it a game? Or was it me making it into a game? All these questions clouded my mind night and day until he was near.

We both had the same mind set and easily made it into a game of some sort. We both knew the only way you lost was if the other fell for the opponent. And we were both too proud to admit that we both lost. So we did what was best and stuck thorns of jealousy into the others neck. The only cure was alcohol. We both ran to the cure and drank away the poison as quickly as we could . We both lost. But he was sadly one step ahead of me and played the card of ignorance. As it worked I felt unsure.

He came up behind me, took my pride, killed me and won.

:: Note :: ... writes & writes with courage ... every once in a while a student that attends my high school classes hands me scraps of writing ... the words always move me ... I've suggested & encouraged the collection of writings towards publishing ... offered & received permission to post on-line ... hope to see more ...