Monday, September 24, 2012

It is a terrible thing to be in love. 
Our cigarette smoke billows out the open window as I watch another friend battle through a break-up. Fairy tales have fucked us. We are told in our most impressionable youths that we must find someone else to complete us. Why can't we just be whole? 

Shadows of the past and what might have been haunt the living.
"Footfalls echo in the memory
 Down the passage which we did not take
 Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. 

My words echo thus in your mind."

Why live in a shade? Why calculate your life around what might have been? Everything happens for a reason. We are where we are meant to be. It doesn't take someone else to make you whole. Nothing is stable, nothing is lasting. You can never rely on anyone's presence other than your own. Why not complete yourself until you find your compliment? 

"Men these days are all palaver and what they can get out of you." Says Lilly, the caretakers daughter. Gabriel gave her two pence, it being Christmas and all. 
We are the living, dead to those around us.

"I should have been a pair of ragged claws."

No comments:

Post a Comment