Friday, 5 June 2009

Little lights

I feel like a candle taper of minimal width, perhaps 3mm, and the candle is long and spindly and the flame is small like a pointed make-up brush. A small gust of wind blows it and it flickers and grows again. He tells me he's going to New York to meet the Girl and the candle is stabbed out on a dotty concrete paving stone, the wrong side. My little flame is stumped out and the candle is bent, and it's ridiculous anyway, what a stupid small flimsy flame. Almost pointless.

It comes in waves. How could someone be so unemotional about a situation? How can it be black and white, this day and that, cut, off, different, new, old. I wrote a lyrical email and got five-word-sentence replies. Not even capital letters. No warmth and no love. Perhaps there wasn't any for a while, I just didn't see it. How can a person be so disillusioned for so long? I want to delete that part of my life, but it is part of me. I want to feel that my case is special but it's completely ordinary. Perhaps I though I was superhuman? I am above your relationship fripperies, I am in control of everything that happens to me. Maybe that's the wake-up call, to this you are in control of life is futile, you are a tool and that is all. An object.

I'm glad I'm not seriously hurt. It would be rubbish to know that no-one cares if my ribs are smashed in, but thankfully they're not. No-one is a grand unfair statement, I really mean no One. The person that cares above all other people. One person. (The) One. Now I don't know if I feel sick because I have been in a road traffic accident, or because I have been punched. You think you did better by moving to London, well I get to follow some girl to New York. Look how pedestrian my choice was. Look how dull and staid and regular, yes I'll meet some gorgeous people in a city of seven million, but look, no, apparently not. And not like I'm ready to, perhaps I am screwed and should be ready right away. I've been playing it by ear, trusting myself, which I suppose is the most important thing. Follow your little lights.

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