dead stars

June 28, 2017

On the morning of my wedding, I was told that my wife would one day cheat on me. I laughed when it happened.

I remember that I was in front of the door to the wedding hall, waiting for guests to fill up the room, when a little girl (around four years old, dressed in a hideous shade of magenta), came to me and pulled at my sleeves. She told me to bend down. So, I did. She cupped her hands around her tiny mouth and whispered into my ear.

“I think that she’ll find a new prince one day. Don’t you agree?”

She pointed at my wife and looked back at me. I looked at her. I remember thinking about how modern parenting has failed. All the trash TV shows and cartoons that these kids watch is what is leading to all this “prince and princess” romance bullshit. One day, they’ll realize that marriage is really nothing but a social necessity. So I carried on with the rest of my day. I waited as my father-in-law led my wife down the hall. I remember putting the ring on her finger and kissing her, thinking that I, though not the luckiest man in the world, was happy enough. I talked to some guests, had a bit too much champagne, made a fool of myself on the dance floor— you know, all the typical things.

I don’t know why, but despite the absurdity of things, I still couldn’t help but recall how the pink girl at the wedding dared to mark my fate with her words. It wasn’t really what she sad that bothered me. That was irrelevant. What struck me was my nonchalance to her words. I think that I was supposed to feel something, be it anger, sadness, or disbelief. This dawned on me for days. My apathy towards the “prophecy” began to expand and characterize itself in other parts of my life.

Things happened in the following months. I was cut from my job because the company I worked for went bankrupt. I didn’t tell her though. I would leave the house at seven in the morning and return home at far later hours. I didn’t think she would want to know about my new state of unemployment. I was felt uncomfortable to stay home with her all day. I guess I lied and isolated myself from the good of the both of us.

We continued living like this for another year. I got myself a part time job cleaning and serving at a bar. I earned enough to get us by. She never complained though. It was strange how she chose to remain with me even after how I have managed to fuck up my jobs. Every time I see her at home, she would smile at me faintly— as if looking at a lost lover.

One day after work, I decided to stay at the bar for a couple of drinks. I forgot to call home that night. Half intoxicated, I arrived home at half past three. To my surprise, she was waiting up for me. I expected her to be mad. I expected her to yell at me. But when she saw me walk into the room, all she did was tell me to get some rest. When I heard her say this, something in me snapped. The kid was right. My wife didn’t care anymore. There can only be one way to explain how she has managed to put up with an unsuccessful and useless man life me.

As messed up as it sounds, I still imagine her there with me when I stayed out with other women. I disgusted myself. I told myself that this was meant to happen anyways. When a woman from a high standing family marries you, you realize that you will never be enough for, no matter how hard you try. As I think back on it, I realize that I would really like the girl for telling me what she did. If I hadn’t known, I would probably have been heartbroken if I found out she cheated on me . It was just a matter of time. Instead, by knowing the truth, I could at least fulfill what was missing from my life, from my marriage.

She wasn’t surprised when I brought her the divorce papers. She told me she knew. I told her I did too.


“I still remember the day we got married. He was happy, I think. I don’t know what happened. I still loved him. I guess he decided he didn’t anymore. I laughed when he told me he ‘knew’ that I would have left. He didn’t know shit. I loved him. He didn’t. It’s that simple”

cult (the end)

June 12, 2017

3.
you counted
the wandering lost souls in the
dark while
i fed upon your tears like it was the only thing that
mattered.
to think that i
would have lived an eternity with your
breath upon my shoulders,

when
the lights still shined on in
nights without
you.

remind yourself that you matter,
love.

sonder?

June 3, 2017

“I have two priorities in this world (or at least in what we see of it)– my established systems of deception and acceptance.

Now, if you ask me which comes after the other, I will tell you to stop embarrassing yourself. You’re only trying to act witty because you think people like this version of you. I will tell you to stop because frankly the chicken or the egg debate gets old.

People trying to assert superiority over one another with petty speech and cheap humor isn’t anything new. I like to tell myself that these people could be shifting this attention to solving the world’s problems– stopping global warming, curing cancer, and whatnot. It’s funny to imagine a world where people actually do useful shit with their lives. Then again, what would happen to the businesses that feed on the misfits of society? Entertainment businesses would lose capital because people would be busy maintaining productivity; the drugs, alcohol, and sex industries would play a lesser role in our capitalist system. If you look at the big picture, people in this world would also think they’ve achieved self sufficiency when really they’re just feeding back into their individual egos.

But, back to me. I have accepted that I will inevitably need to lie to myself for a sane state of mind; with this, necessitates the maximum level of acceptability to my conscious will . I believe I am happy because that is what I have chosen to tell myself. Who gives a fuck if I cut myself every night and drink myself to sleep? I tell myself things to keep myself sane. I tell other people things to keep them sane. We all accept what I say because we all accept the easiest answers– well, at least the majority of us. Some people think they’re above all that and instead choose to confront the hardest truths. That’s kind of stupid. Choosing to make your life harder doesn’t make you any more respectable. We all know somewhere in there, you’re just trying to prove that you deserve better, that because you’ve gone through hell and back, you now deserve all the glories humanity can offer. All of this only adds on to why lying to yourself and accepting those lies is the best approach to living.

I don’t think I’m a coward for thinking this. Wouldn’t you just love to think this way? All you have to do is let yourself.”

Amidst your words,
do you hear how alive the trees are?

prior to

You once told me that love fucked you over.

I was silent for a minute. Then I told you that I’ve always liked listening because it was the only way to silence all the other voices I heard.

You said that if I was smart I wouldn’t want to listen.

I said that I’ve never been very good at being smart.

You barely smiled.

 

I didn’t care if you were broken.

You looked me and told me that’s what they all said.

I’m different.

You told me that’s what they all said too.

I looked into your eyes.

You looked back into mine.

 

I liked the sound of your silence.

You said you liked the sound of my silence.

moments

It was the first summer night that I consciously acknowledged.

I am aware of every detail that I do not need to know.

8:32 pm
7/31
28°
ash rose
converse
76 mph
starbucks (halfway)
night lights
trees
coloured skies

I am focusing on all the wrong things. I can see, but do I really see? I need to see all of you right now, but the only image in my mind is the thought of how I should remember you when this is over. I fake a laugh to look unfazed by everything around me that is coming into sight too fast, too quickly– the recollection of you, of us, of world soon without you, of Insecurity’s eyes staring back into mine. The sky clears. And for a second I let myself think that maybe one day we’ll look back to this moment (and realize what we could have been).