they weren't supposed to tell you about her because then all your decisions would've been based on her thoughts of you, her feelings, her opinions, her agenda, and can you say with any honesty that you would've been living in the moment and for you and yourself alone?--you know exactly what would've happened, it's all written right there for you, you've already done this a hundred times, and the beginning, middle, and end are all the same: you come to the core of what you are only to be disappointed that there's nothing there for you to change: the dreams are always of her, and what is it that she shows you in these dreams?--only that you are a hopeless and regrettable case when it comes to women...oh, if you could have been born as one completely oblivious to them, you might've become someone even you would have respected...but as things are, as you dive deeper and deeper into this hole you call a dream, you'll see that yes, the high-rise rises ever higher, there's yet another floor for you to climb the stairs to, and when your body aches and you say it was a good climb, that it was good for your growth, when you look out that window, all you see is the distance between you and the hard earth you've fooled yourself into thinking you've gotten away from...but what have you done, really?--it is night and the moonlight sometimes streams in through the clouds scudding by...the wind rises and falls and rises and again, and it howls when you least expect it, when you don't want it to, which is when you'd like to think of her across the street in that other office high-rise where she too is staying late burning the midnight oil...or maybe she's just ******* her boss, who can say?--do you see where the problem will always be?--you are too fixated on all these women who don't care about you, who have never and will never care about you, and do you see now that they never could because even you don't put yourself first: you are trapped in this mode of thinking that has you chasing after them, wondering how you can get them hooked on you, desirous only of having them fall in love with you so that you can say to yourself that you "have it all" when in fact what you have is a disaster just waiting to happen: you are not whole unless you have one of them who loves you?--and have you asked yourself what in the hell you're going to do when you can't get any of them to fall for you?--will you be worthless just because you are alone in the world again?--you came into this world alone, you're leaving it alone...all you're doing as you allow yourself to become more and more clutched in this trap is validating the lie that there can ever be someone who will be with you in all respects in this life...and even if you could find someone who is genuine, one who isn't a liar, she still couldn't help you with hose terrible episodes you have when questioning the point of everything, the point of existence: she'll just say that at least you have each other, that there are cold nights when you can hold each other and continue giving the lie to each other back and forth till break of day that you gave each other when there you are in your mind all alone as ever, all alone as you'll always be...she knows this, for she is all alone in her mind as well...we can never really be accompanied by another to where we exist within ourselves...no, all we can do is share with each other what it's like to live within ourselves and hope that there's someone out there who understands us...it is this understanding that relieves the pressure because then we can usually follow through with fooling ourselves that here is someone who understands us, and because of this understanding, we are alone no more...it sounds too good to be true because in the dead of nights like these, it is exactly what it seems: another lie our rational minds take to our hearts as the stuff that will allow us to sleep, to go through each day with "proof" that we aren't alone anymore...and yet there is the eternal silence of the mind where the only voice that stirs is this one, the one talking to you now as you look down all those hundreds of feet to the concrete below, and when that gets too boring, you look across the street trying to see if indeed she is ******* her boss when you know she'd never be so gauche as to display herself anywhere near such wall-sized windows...you have the unshakeable nerve of the dead to think that you were ever going to find someone in this life who was capable of getting you out of your head and into reality...the thing of it is, though, that you have been fooling yourself for too long: just because they spread their legs for you doesn't mean the melancholy is going away forever...no, it will return just as soon as you've finished with them, as soon as you begin thinking dispassionately of your seed running out of them, of them getting pregnant or of them unable to get pregnant because you just might be sterile after all, that's when the sadness will settle into your bones again, that's where you'll feel like you're a million years old, like you've always existed in this world, like even when you can't remember what it was like to be alive, there will be the unshakeable feeling like whatever you are, you are meant to be this weighty, because there is too much to think about, to be cautious about, to be indifferent to, to be against...because aren't you the warrior of another era, aren't you the one who wants to resurrect them just to slaughter them over and over until the end of time?--oh, you could tell her, couldn't you?--and the crazy ******* within you would be willing to do it too, if you knew where to begin or how to explain who it is you're killing to resurrect to **** all over again: is it your mothers who knows no one and cares for no one but herself?, is it your father who passed onto you his blinding need for women to fill him with purpose by controlling him?, is it every single woman you'd ever been with whom you'd tricked yourself into believing you loved just because you were ******* her, just because you were making plans with them to exist in some near-future world when you were happy and content and wouldn't look at any other woman?--but had you ever asked yourself how that would have been you being completely independent of them, of her?--yes, you had wanted your own life and you'd wanted her to have hers as well, you'd wanted to be the type to not care about what she was doing nor with whom she was doing it, but is that who you were really, or is that who you kept telling yourself you wanted to be?--and even if that was who you were, had you been telling yourself to become this merely as a form of protection?--because if you could become such a man, then they'd never be able to hurt you again, could they?--you'd never find yourself crying that you'd allowed yourself to be fooled into thinking you'd never have to be alone again, you'd never find yourself hating the person you'd become, that ******* who thought everything was going to be fine when he should've just been working on getting his life together, of creating a good life for him to live so that when she left him, he would've been just fine, just as fine as if she'd never happened into his life... but the chandelier did not sway, it just hung from the ceiling as you approached the spiral staircase in the lush apartment where you two had lived...she had gone, and you liked ******* with yourself from time to time like this asking if she'd ever really been here to begin with, asking if she ever existed when she walked out that door...but you knew you never would've rented a place out that was as nice as this without having a woman in your life, for you could live almost anywhere and it would've bothered you only a little that it was in a ****** neighborhood, or that it wasn't the perfect apartment in the nicest part of town...this too was done under the influence of whatever you wanted to call this thing you were...and what could it be called, anyway?: were you co-dependent, or were you just desperate in a very common way?--were you deranged for both wanting to be alone and hating that you'd be alone regardless if you had someone?--were you ****** up for having conversations like this within your mind, or were you merely being honest about what a byzantine piece of post-modern life post-modernity had told you it'd made in your brain?--you weren't just living in the here and now, you had always been this, you had always done this, for "out there" in the æther that transcended time and space, there was the presence of darkness and how it called to you to come back home, that this was where you'd been speaking, that this was what you'd always meant when you'd said "god"--it was neither good nor bad, it was neither nothing nor everything...it was only what always had been and what would always be, and right now it was calling to you, smiling at you that there would be plenty of time to be alone for good and for all, but just what did you consider being alone when you had all of this to consider: the window and what she was doing, the walls here and what they contained when you were looking at the moon, the chandelier and how she'd be back and how even if she never came back, there'd still be all these thoughts staring back at you asking how you knew there was a smile there in the blackness of eternity...and how you knew it was for you--
© asgarth 2017
Creative Commons License
This work by asgarth is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Based on a work at midgarth.blogspot.com.
