Extrance.
the hallmarks of serenity slip off my tongue like wet, sticky mango. the hairs of the organic fruit attack this papillae. how many words to describe the how many words im using to describe fruit? or am i describing serenity? ive forgotten to flag the ambiguity for clarification's sake out of complete and utter ambivalence.
exodus from relationships make me wonder who i had involved my life with for so long in the first place, and for what reason. what did i see in that person? last night was a night i went back (out of boredom or curiosity, the motive is unclear to me still) and reintroduced myself to the person who called me attractive by name. such a superficial nickname for the superficial person i am. it always came down to pride and neuroses... in the most tenacious fashion readily available at a teenager's fingertips. like a nine month long chess game. to compare, it would be any palahniuk novel on steroids. pathological meglomaniac liar + bipolar angsty goth = tRu lUvv 4eVA. the sheer absurdity of the entire situation still leaves me laughing and crying. i wish scars like mine were removable.
i looked at this person, confined to a single page of formulated text and posed images and wondered to myself, how this person was possibly related to me, and how this person still is. these words, carefully construed- were so normal, and extrinsic from everything i knew of her: even from the last time we spoke almost a year ago. "profile"... a synopsis of this entire person, yet i still couldn't grasp the concept that she was able to summarize her entire amazing personality with a few webcam images, a preloaded biography with contrived and asinine quiz results. there is something completely faulty in this entire system. with my silence, i haven't left a predator on the loose, i've left a blind man out in the middle of the street with a shotgun in the shape of a flashlight. i examined the pictures only to come to one conclusion: she got fatter. and somehow that brought me a little solace.
i wonder how much i change. year to year, day to day. i wonder how long ago i left behind the boy she still claimed to love. if there was any truth to the words, subconscious or not. i question the attraction. it must have been more than shallow: the phase or the core?
we never really escape the traumas of our past, no matter how self-inflicting they are. guilt ties her to me. she ties me to her. like a mosquito feeling guilty for needing my blood. theres a large part of me that has already rid my external life of her to the point where there is no interaction whatsoever, but on a day to day basis, what ive learned from that time, i apply. we used to run around seeing who could deal the most damage and escape unscathed. whose pawn could be sacrificed. who lost their queen. and we would act unaffected. she forever feels indebted to me for what shes done. and i will never forget the ongoings of those nine months.
checkmate.