Voltaic Love

[metropolisinstitute]

http://ice-gay.com/526273/brothers/

[metropolisinstitute]

Goodnight

Having someone to say goodnight to,

That’s what I’m looking for.

Not someone to hold or call my own,

Not someone to hug, caress or kiss,

Not even someone who’d make me some tea,

Not someone who’s eyes are clearer than the sky,

Not someone with skin and toes and hair,

Not someone with thoughts,

Not someone with a red woolen hat,

Or green swimming shorts,

Not even someone with a dirty red bicycle,

Or someone with sugar on his lips.

Just someone to say goodnight to.

[metropolisinstitute]

call it off

I guess in the back of my head there was always a voice telling me it wouldn’t work out. I didn’t see myself with A. living ‘happily ever-after’. And it was, in a way, ridiculous to expect that. He was my first relationship and I knew very well the odds I was facing. But I chugged along, putting off that little voice in my head, dismissing it as part of my OCD, which always gets me imagining the worst case scenarios in the blink of a second.

I didn’t see it as a breakup in the true meaning of the word, or at least in the meaning I was designed to believe by every romantic movie I’ve seen. I saw it as us re-defining what our relationship was. We were more friends than intimate partners anyway, so we just re-defined what we were. We remain friends. It was something I was too afraid to do, it was a step I was to petrified to make, so he took the reins. I couldn’t knowingly give up the comfort I’ve been lusting for all my teenage years and beginning of my young adulthood (as I think of myself as maturing very early on account of me starting a full time job as early as I did).

It still hurt. It continues to hurt from time to time. My brain tries to see things from his perspective from time to time, putting a giant lens over all my flaws and magnifying them ten-fold and all my insecurities flare up instantaneously. I do my best to keep them at bay and I’m glad I’ve been more successful than I thought.

What surprised me most in my, pardon the inaccurate use of the word, ‘rebound’ state that I was, is that I wasn’t seeking comfort in others, I thought I needed to meet new guys, that I need to sleep around to get him out of my system. That’s what they do in movies, right?

But no, I didn’t need that. I needed to reconnect with myself. I needed time to get to know myself. I got a bit lost in being part of a couple because it was something I was fantasizing about for so long. But I then realized how important it is to discover one-self and value one-self. 

I was told by my best-friend (and only person whose judgment I truly trust) that I look tired, that I seem exhausted. And it was true. Work was getting the best of me, I wasn’t taking care of myself, which had always been a trigger in my relationship with A. who was so productive and responsible in ways I wasn’t (although the tables were turned in some other categories). 

That wake-up call, coupled with being on my own for the first time in over a year triggered something amazing. I emerged somewhat re-energized. I made a decision to enjoy life more and take advantage of it. To take care of myself and love myself more each day. Because I didn’t need anyone else’s validation. Just my own. Easier said than done, but it’s all just supposed to be a work in progress. Nothing’s ever quite done, otherwise there wouldn’t be anything left to do.

So I don’t look back with sadness, I look forward with renewed passion, wanting to become a better version than I was and if someone else falls along on this journey maybe I’ll learn even more.

[metropolisinstitute]

it’s the not knowing

Ironing clothes relaxes me, I've recently discovered. Maybe I see the act of straightening out the wrinkles as a way of straightening out my life, getting rid of my flaws and insecurities, one at a time. It clears my mind a bit, and I like the warmth it exudes in the air, the steam gently hitting my hands. 

Anyway, I use it as a kind of meditation. My mind runs rampant with paranoia sometimes and it drives me crazy. I’m afraid of messing things up with A. Sometimes I don’t know how I feel, just how I’m supposed to feel. But when I’m not near him I can’t take my mind off him. I’m guessing that should be sweet and normal, but instead of thinking about the good, my mind goes to dark places, feeding off of my every insecurity to turn him into the bad guy. Why do I do this? Why does my mind always sabotage me?

A. might very well be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m growing tremendously because of him. He gets me out of my shell like no one ever has. He is so patient and sweet with me. Yet I continue to distrust him and try to control him. My jealousy is getting the best of me.

I want to tell him how great he is and offer him the kind of validation I would need, but what if this scares him? What if it would put pressure on him? I constantly feel I’m walking on eggshells in this relationship. I’m so petrified I could take the wrong step and screw everything up. So I don’t speak. I don’t tell him what’s on my mind. But I can’t hide it either. I can’t hide it from my face, from my eyes, from my lips.

I need to ask. I need to stop waiting for others to read my mind. I need to open up every channel of communication. I need to open up. We need to find the answers together. We need to discover ourselves. I will no longer be a mystery.

It’s the not knowing that hurts the most.

[metropolisinstitute]

beat beat

I’ve had a good day. Or maybe two good days. Anxiously waiting to see if I make it to three. My back hurts, my legs hurt, feels like I tore something in my right one. My body is tired, but in a good way. The sun’s been setting into me for the past two days. I almost don’t mind the sweat anymore... ‘cause I’m gonna keep on dancing. Whatever happens. I’ll keep on dancing.

[metropolisinstitute]

bodies

"Someplace good." I tell the taxi driver in my head. The water runs in the tub. I turned the faucet on so she couldn't hear, so I couldn't hear. It's easier to behave like you haven't been masturbating than it is that you haven't been crying. I need a physical output for what I'm feeling. It's so hot in here. My face is burning. Why is it so hot in here?

[metropolisinstitute]

weakness

I feel like I'm in a fucking Hemingway novel or something. Talks of war and every man between 20 and 35 being forced to enroll. I'm 21, I'm barely a man. I can barely take care of myself on a day-to-day basis, I wouldn't comprehend war even if I wasn't it, how would I survive a minute in it? I've never been in a fight in my entire life. I feel like my heart is racing and I'm on the verge of a full blown panic attack. Dying for a shitfaced country is not how I envisioned my 20's.

I spend my time procrastinating, putting off school, shopping, chatting up with random dudes on gay dating websites and daydreaming about having a boyfriend... and now everything seems fucking pointless. I don't even have a tattoo yet, I haven't traveled, I haven't had nearly as much sex as I should have, I wanna fuck and get fucked, I wanna spend entire nights out, I wanna walk a thousand miles and I wanna learn to swim and I wanna see live music and I wanna have a proper road trip and I just wanna run.

What's the point of anything now? If your shitty country that didn't give you anything your entire life, yet struggled to take as much as possible from you, can force you to sign up for your own death.

I'm not gonna do that. I'm not. I'm gonna continue listening to music, drinking energy drinks, wank, wonder why the cute guy at work doesn't hit on me and when shit hits the fan I won't leave anything behind anyway. 

Fuck everything.

[metropolisinstitute]

Stranger on the bus

I've always had a hard time remembering faces. I don't know why, but it's been like this for as far as I can remember. I'd need to see someone on at least three separate occasions in order to reproduce their face in my mind afterwards; and even then, it was not always without effort. 

But his face... I had only seen him once on that bus, yet his entire image is so vividly haunting my mind. I can remember every single detail that struck me so deeply when I saw him. He had a skinny face, with a womanly jawline, a scruffy goatee that seemed to want to turn blond, his hair was brown but in that light it had a tinge of reddish hue to it, his skin was milky, he had a black scarf around his neck and his jacket was untied, he was clutching his backpack and was reading his book. Even the pimple on his right cheek is so vividly entrapped in my head. But what tortured me the most wasn't how attractive he was, how elegant he was, how smart he seemed, it was his eyes. For at a moment he lifted his gaze from the book he was reading to look around the bus and he caught me staring straight at him. His deep gaze left me numb. There was a depth in his stare, one that couldn't be explained. I thought for a second if maybe it was sadness that was so prominent in his look, but it wasn't that, it was something far too complex and far too personal for me to be able to catch just from my shy observation.

I was dreading the next bus stop, where I had to descend. I wanted to continue my, in lack of a better term, stalking. I wanted to hear his voice, oh how I imagine how his voice must sound. I wonder how he smells. I wanted to see him smile, for once on the entire journey he did not open his mouth, and why would he? 

I caught a glimpse of the book he was reading, I could clearly see the image on the cover but my poor eye sight could not make up the title of the book, just the author: Laxness. I subsequently found out he was reading Independent People.

I desperately wanted to add more depth to this nameless character. He managed to haunt my entire day, which is not in itself such a surprising event, as I've been infatuated by cute guys I've seen on the street before. But when I woke up today at 7AM and I could still picture him perfectly, I knew something was different.

But there's nothing to be done. I hope that in my lifetime at least one person goes through this for me. I hope to be the subject of someone's brief obsession. I hope that everyone goes through this. Because each person is beautiful and deserves to be stuck in someone's mind. Even if only for a night.

[metropolisinstitute]

waste

Such a complete fucking waste of time and effort. I am the fakest person I know. I preach that one should always do what they like, what they enjoy, they should study something that gives them joy yet now I find myself, after more than 2 years of stress, hating what I study. I see people around me talking about their university and their courses with genuine passion and I'm just waiting for it to be finally over. I can't be bothered with it anymore, the methodology, the professors, the grading, the bibliography etc. They've managed to turn something with an extraordinary potential into the blandest subject there is. Literature should be the vastest subject of all, yet everything about how this school is organized is so anti-art, so anti-learning that it makes me sick. And now I wonder why I even bothered with it and I'm feeling stuck in this hopeless pit.

What now? 

[metropolisinstitute]

day 2 without smoking

Haven't smoked since Saturday Night, had a very productive day today, mostly because I was free from work, but I've managed to cross off a lot of things from my checklist. I am subconsciously trying to tie my productivity with me quitting even though I know it probably has nothing to do with it, just to motivate myself even more...

feelings: agitated, tired, cranky, jumpy, paranoid, hopeless and hopeful at the same time;

trying to concentrate on the liberating feeling that you get when you don't have to think about how many cigarettes you have left in your pack and how long they'll last...