Value
After the emotional and alcoholic turmoil of the past few weeks, I decided to take over, build a dam and a small house on top of it, where I can live my new, steady way of life.
I just finished watching Sylvia, a biography on poetess Sylvia Plath and her ways of dealing with love, jealousy, adultery and death. It reminded me, above all, of my late friend, but also of a conversation I had with a friend yesterday, again while drinking. He has two girlfriends, but gives them 100% love, he says. How? When he is together with one, he will direct all of his attention to her and only her, giving her all the love he has. The same goes of course for the other one.
The horror.
If he's happy with that, no problem, but I would crumble. My 100% would be shattered into pieces, all in search for another 100%. The priest would break out of his wooden box and viciously turn my blood into wine.
Today, I shook hands with the priest inside of me, acknowledged his presence and decided to listen to the sermon, he has been whispering in my inner ears for as long as I can remember: "Truth, clarity and time."
I'm building a dam against the fake love, twilight and transience, so I can still gaze at its roaring water without having to drown in it. And on top of the dam, I'm going to build a house. A house for the both of us, for only then will I be true to myself, for only then will the river become clear, for only then sufficient time will have passed for me to hold you.
I just finished watching Sylvia, a biography on poetess Sylvia Plath and her ways of dealing with love, jealousy, adultery and death. It reminded me, above all, of my late friend, but also of a conversation I had with a friend yesterday, again while drinking. He has two girlfriends, but gives them 100% love, he says. How? When he is together with one, he will direct all of his attention to her and only her, giving her all the love he has. The same goes of course for the other one.
The horror.
If he's happy with that, no problem, but I would crumble. My 100% would be shattered into pieces, all in search for another 100%. The priest would break out of his wooden box and viciously turn my blood into wine.
Today, I shook hands with the priest inside of me, acknowledged his presence and decided to listen to the sermon, he has been whispering in my inner ears for as long as I can remember: "Truth, clarity and time."
I'm building a dam against the fake love, twilight and transience, so I can still gaze at its roaring water without having to drown in it. And on top of the dam, I'm going to build a house. A house for the both of us, for only then will I be true to myself, for only then will the river become clear, for only then sufficient time will have passed for me to hold you.
posted by Yptucide at
3:13 PM
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