Sunday, 11 January 2015

One For The Road 3

I want love to be less painful and make it some pleasant sledge slide where I know how it ends.

“It’s like... I know what’s going on and it’s not even that I don’t-” I stumble on my own words, making my usual drama which seems to be my veil of thinking, of how the thoughts just go in my head and I recall how Miles would tell me that his thought were more clear, so I could only presume from watching myself and others that all which is given is the line of thinking and nothing makes clear sense to me, because I know the love is there but who is it who actually pushes the other away and how come we hadn’t had sex in quite a fucking while? Pushing the idea that I had actually needed it, Alex always pushing me further, making me feel more alive and I wondered how come had he known things about my body I would have to slowly nudge other blokes into the right direction. I blow out the smoke, watching it circulate us.

Maybe there is some sort of sense of being with another woman again, even if the fuss is deeper at least all words will be at least uttered on the break up rather than the exclusive silence from one side and my own preserved words of sympathy. Sometimes I wonder when does one’s boredom go to other sides and how much do we see from the wrong sides? I don’t speak to Alison, who slowly sips on her wine and smoking her cigarette, her own relationships taking her own emotional space. 

“I always thought it was his fault, but maybe it is mine, after all.” I don’t explain anything and just like any friend, she jumps to the conclusion just like any mother would as well, that it’s surely not my fault and if I were to start feeling such emotions, then Alex is not worth it and the more we push such boundaries the more we start wondering who is worthy of these lies we get told by the end? Who are we supposed to feed with them eventually? I shake my head, not properly hearing her conclusion. I smile, sadly. “He’s honest. I’m the one who isn’t...”

I bite my tongue.

“That’s why he’s drifting away.” And I feel my eyes water. My voice cracks and I can feel my whole body flood, my legs becoming much lighter than I had ever intended as my hand is already against my eyes and I tell myself that these are the tears which hadn’t come to me on the station when he was going to Paris with a honest lover. He’s brilliant to chose Miles over me. 

The fear of becoming no one is dominating. Fear escalates and I start getting paranoid and I can’t even hold the tears back, as Alison places her hands on my shoulders, but her words go entirely through me as I grab her and pull her closer, before I hear a flash with a camera and without thinking I look at the camera, as another shot is taken and Alison curses, grabbing me by the wrists, pulling us back into the restaurant, closing the exit door, quickly grabbing both of our cigarettes and dropping them hastily on the floor to step on them with her boot and I presume marks will be left, but instead Alison continues her pace back to the table.

“It’s not your fault.” She hesitates on her next phrase, as her eyes get heavier with memory and regret, a bit of anger and convincing oneself. “If it doesn’t work out, it’s always two to blame, one cannot be perfect for another, if the other isn’t.”

And her fish is served, as she starts cutting it a bit too angrily and my own words fail me and maybe my own vulnerable state gives me to way to ask questions, as she continues cutting into smaller pieces, the odor of fish reaching me, as I had chosen pasta.

“Why did you break up with Jamie, then?” I hold myself, hoping it’s not too aggressive or invasive and I wonder if we could be the slightly lesbian women from Almodovar if we tried a bit harder, our drama does seem to match the standarts and far from joyful men, as the women find solitude in each other or themselves. 

She puts the fork down.

“I didn’t want to lose him. I thought you don’t lose friends. You do.” She snaps, more at herself and Jamie, rather than herself. “I thought being friends would be easier, I thought labels are the harm to a person, rather than ourselves.”

She paused.

“I was too infatuated, didn’t realize that once my interests would change, I wouldn’t love him anymore, at least... not in such an intense way.” Alison thinks for a while. “Passion might be louder than love, but it’s not the best desire to love with. It’s just... selfish after a while and I knew that he had loved me in a way I never would.”

She takes another sip of wine.

“And neither did I meet his expectations. We romanticized too many aspects of each other to make reality easier. Fucking and fighting isn’t something to enjoy.” The woman adds on. “No matter how he states it, y’know, works for him, doesn’t work for me. It’s not even mental health, I don’t care if he gets medicated or not, I thought maybe it would be something among those lines, but he’s still him, he won’t change and neither will I. Neither will I understand how is it to have a depression where you lock yourself in.”

Her smile is dark, regretful and confused, eyes scanning the room briefly before coming back to her fateful food. Life is more than shredded juice before serving. 

It’s weird how we recall places it took us hours to travel to not come back to them sometimes soon and the tip wave of deaths grip only shines to remind that we might not see from our own hand
And it gets worse when he’s away, when feelings overflow the bathtub and I can’t even turn off the water, sinking my hair deeper wishing I were a mermaid only to sing myself to death rather than a man.

You want to have fun but how do you have fun when the knees are trembling, wounds wide open and you pick on them just to cause more harm onto yourself? I try not to watch Alison too intensely.
We can claim relationships as our own or forget them. Some relationships get so distant from us that they become another life and you even wonder if you’ve ever dated them. And if there is any aspect of someone in front of you, which reminds you of someone else, like Alison’s messy ponytail would remind me of my ex when we had dated and she wouldn’t care on how she looked and there was that discarded innocence she had given me and would make me blush seeing her and with relationships detached, there’s just a bit of imagery left to be nostalgic for, just because it’s different when you’re in love with a woman.

I try to catch up on the pasta and the lack of something distantly familiar is attractive and I wonder on which roulette would I place Alison, on the friend which helps me or the friend which allows to push the boundaries further with her own desire? 

I am myself.

“I still think you should romanticize, after all, all happens in our mind, it’s not like we consciously draw roses around the people we draw, fate and our emotions do.” I smile weakly at her, trying to believe in my past love comments. “So it’s not even that you should...”

I shrug.

“You just will, whether you want it or not.” I speak to my collar, as she stares at me with her wide dark eyes, reminding me of night’s teaspoons.

We decide to go somewhere for cocktails now, something which reminds me of a pub crawl and before we head into one, I grab her now by the wrist, recalling the paps and instead she smiles at me. I step from heel to heel. We could do a pub crawl, since you mix so much that it just can’t possible get worse and I feel like getting drunk enough to grab some candy on the way back to solely sober up and we’re not the only ones driven with the desire to get intoxicated as we walk the crowded as the night sky streets, as if we could watch the stars and if I were high enough I would’ve thought we could’ve we snuck out if we drove outside enough to watch the stars or pretend that we could see the fucking sky. 


I find gender awfully confusing and generally, sometimes you don't want to be a certain gender but you are, I mean if you're fluid even if it's for a brief while, I frankly hate being female as I seem to be running into the worse of transphobic scum which happen to be female, so it becomes a usual action of just like people lash out on men, I lash out on women which makes sense, but doesn't when it comes to society, because a woman's right is above a trans person's right specifically if you fall under the transman spectrum and that ideology is gross. So I really depute being female and I get scared when I have desire to write from a female perspective even whilst I'm male, it still scares me because I get bombarded everyday how I shouldn't be my gender in any way, as male is scum. So it becomes problematic, but I really enjoy this story and the whole, my boyfriend is poly, but we're falling apart not due to that and I'm a bit queer sort of thing, I really like it and even if I don't and I'm not a woman myself, I still enjoy writing about women or reading about them, even if they're not me and when I'm female I'm still lesbian, so yeah. I tell myself this is where my female side goes, but I still write this story as a male writer, since I am one and I'm female at times, so that is used. And I hate feeling guilty for being male, because there's a cult of shaming transmen for their gender.

I had a manic episode and I kept musing on how I had wanted to write this story and I frankly had the first line only from the last time I had written it, so here it is XD all binged through with breaks for food and etc XD

I guess sometimes it gets boring to write solely about men because it's so typical for me even if that's what I do 99% of the time because it's what I am, I miss the drama, maybe I was just being nostalgic about the times I had been in relationship with women as a woman. Dunno, you think a lot, when you've got love to spare, I guess. But writing about women is surely a bit more boring and more unrelatable to me, so yeah. I'm just angry, bear with me.

So it ticks me off frankly because I've just been in weird moods frankly and anxious.

I dunno, I just get ticked off how people ignore Mulan's gender identity and how all is portrayed as different women or I had read an article which was transphobic yet called out perfectly on racism, so there's that.

I wonder if I am the reason which pushes people away, because I do thrash women a lot.

I guess this chapter was around the whole how it is different to be with a woman, really.

I also have been obsessed with side plots or side stories so Alison's relationship analysis is something I can never get enough of, since I love The Kills:)

I had the pap idea literally as I was writing, so yeah, usually I have some sort of heading in my head xD

To be frank, I'm still anxious that I use them, but I just enjoy the plot a lot and like Callie put it, Ikuni did make a great Mamoru in the original Sailor Moon manga, so that's what I use xD

The claiming relationships as our own as intended or rather thought of as gender in my head, but I was writing this chapter today so I just applied the thought here and then I guess I started thinking of my ex and I was sleepy and I recalled her hairstyle and that shed some nostalgia, maybe just a memory which had no links to anything bad, so I hd used that, because it was an interesting image, I guess. I still need to choose Alexa's ex, so any suggestions are welcome :D

I thought of roses frankly of Jamie Hince and his rose obsession, rather than noticing how Ikuni this phrase sounded xD I dunno I enjoyed the brief hopeful romantic speech, that was nice to write. Let's all have hope xD

The last paragraph as usual was the first paragraph of the next but I enjoyed the star watching imagery, so it was kept and the high bit was maybe because I was listening to Lana, so yeah xD Never got high, I do like getting drunk though xD and a pub crawl seemed fitting even if I hate them with my guts xD

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you

I've got more stories but I figured since I wrote this just now, why not push it out? XD



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