Chimerical

A compendium of nothingness.

I think about you a lot.

I think about how you’re not good for me. And how after all we’ve been through, you have only seen a good fifty percent of me. I mean, doesn’t everyone? No? But you only know the giggles and grumpiness, the kisses and the pinches, the eye rolling and the playful smacking. You haven’t experienced the madness. You don’t even know how turbulent the storm will be—or if I’m capable of creating one. You don’t know anything. You have seen the half-assed things but never the full view of a masterpiece. I can’t help but wonder if I have created a personality served for you and I can’t help the feeling of fear that creeps into me, the uncertainty. Will you be able to handle all of me? I’m only wondering because I am a walking disaster.

I Thought This Post Was Going To Be Something Else… Until I Started Thinking About You

“How do you become strangers again with someone who has seen your soul?”

Because not every individual we meet will ever be vulnerable enough to expose their soul—neither do you ever just share yours to anyone. It’s a terrible yet a wonderful thing, really. Wonderful because it is unique; only a few over these billions, or even a few over ten, will get to pass through your cemented and railed walls—something so intimate that can only be experienced with certain chosen people. Unfortunately, connections break, things suddenly feel odd, sometimes one’s frequency is way higher or way too low than the other and the worse thing is that you can hardly point out in the timeline the moment you stop seeing each other eye to eye.

This is where the art of losing comes to play. I thought our souls were meant to be shared, to be paired with another being? How can something so beautiful be so destructive? Maybe this is why a lot of people live through cynicism. Maybe it is better to look at life with cynicism rather than wait for the inevitable crushing things to kill you. Why do some lose such unfathomable connection so early in life? Where do I find the rest of my soul when someone unreachable has taken a big part of me?

I’ve been trying to answer these questions ever since you stopped looking at me the way you used to.

How do you become strangers again with someone who has seen your soul?

Maybe when you finally feel like a strange idea for me.

Because so far I can’t. I can’t just pretend none of those ever happened. I can’t just look away or tell my heart to stop skipping a beat every time I see you from afar. I can’t pretend you don’t mean shit to me anymore.

I still can’t listen to our favorite band without feeling like the world is crumbling down.

The Love We Think We Deserve

God. I love how you make me laugh. Our laughs make a beautiful melody that could cure heartaches of the people around us. I cannot even begin to explain how much the look in your eyes kill me in the most pleasurable way whenever it’s dim and we’re sitting in the back of your car at 1 AM in complete silence. The trees surrounding us are too eager to sway with that particular symphony—so they do—and it’s like the whole world is with us; as if all the forces of the universe are perfectly aligned when we’re together.

What kind of love is this?

Part 2: How To Kill One Without Making Them Bleed

Find a man who has been abandoned his whole life. Someone whose heart has been stomped, crushed, and trashed many times by pretty girls who don’t care. One who has been denied of love, yet he who gives the most without asking for any in return.

If he says “I’ve never felt like this before” chances are, he is the one. As Fitzgerald notes “there are all kinds of love but never the same one twice” it does not matter how he loves you as long as you have your knife pointing to his chest. With it, he will be willing to give you the world and maybe the stars if he is naïve enough.

In exchange for the stars and the universe, you reward him with slow dances and intimate moments shared in the backseat of his car or his bedroom when you’re feeling nice enough. It’s the repetitive give and take that will keep him satisfied yet yearning for more since you take too much and give too little. He is willing to prove God exists and you are just going to make his life a living hell.

I’m in love with you. You’re in love with me? Yes I am, are you? Of course baby. You’re the best. No one has ever treated me like this before. Aww. You’re such a nice guy. You’re such a nice guy. You’re such a nice guy. Of course you’ll treat me right.

Kisses. Love. Kisses. Mad Love. He’s so happy. I love you more. (Of course you do).

Oh but then… God, aren’t you tired? It’s just too much for me. You’re suffocating me. Yes, your “love” is suffocating me. You’re just too clingy. You want me too much. This is obsession. You’re crazy. No, I need space. Darling, I can’t do this. It’s not you. We’re over.

I don’t love you (anymore?).

Twisted Fate

Ladies’ man in college

Meaningless hook ups

Impregnated a girl–she disappears

Said he has a thing for lolitas

A seventeen sweetheart

“We had an instant connection”

Turns out to be fatherly love

The Arsonist’s True Love


Arson love was a killer.
Mother watched out.
Father assured her flame was enough,
“There’s no stronger fire than you”
Couples fight.
Father lit up the curtains.
Mother was mad.
Turned on the news: “Building burnt down”
Mother was furious.
Father was bored.
Petty flames were no longer fun.
So father ignited the strongest fire of all.

1

“I live in that house. Yeah, the two story one. I sleep in that bedroom and turn the lights off at 10 or 11 PM.”

She pointed out a welcoming looking house and its whiteness gave off a sense of purity that almost blinded us who were covered in dirt. As if like looking at it takes you back to the time where innocence rules and maturation hasn’t started its process yet. If you would have guessed what kind of people live there, you would think a kind of family who eats dinner together… talk to each other… a mother who bakes her children blueberry muffins… a father who takes care of his lilies like his own children… a sister and a brother who tease but love each other.

We get a little distracted by the honking of the cars here and there and the rats that run around everywhere. But that did not stop Kathleen from raising her voice every time she gets excited when telling her usual bullshit stories.

“Sure you do.”

“Watch me get inside,” she stood up and walked towards the house.

At this point, it’s becoming really difficult for me, well for both of us, to tell the difference between reality and this seemingly pleasant world. Something was holding me back though, but Kathleen has already escaped. She has completely cut the rope that connects her to reality. I followed every step she took, and by then I realized that something was odd.

The closer we were to the house, the smaller it got. How was that even possible?

The next thing I knew was Kat lying on the floor with a bleeding cut on her forehead. At first I couldn’t move and she was just there helplessly rolling on the ground. Then I started to notice everything–the ugliness of the world. Beside her was a stray cat that looked like it hasn’t eaten for months, then slowly the sound of the traffic that my ears have blocked ever since she started talking. I noticed how dirty the ground she was laying on and how her eyes roll back with her body moving here and there. I noticed that there was a big white dirty wall. There was no white house with a garden full of lilies and a happy family.

But there was a picture.

Kathleen Tomes never really lived in there. She lived outside the picture but when she’s lucky, she gets to pass that white door. Today was not that day though. Currently, as far as I know, she lives in this alley in the middle of the city, she doesn’t have a lamp to turn off, and she never gets to sleep at 10 or 11 PM or at all.

Transition

I have met the worst–whose name is sadness

For so long always hanging in my arm

I thought this was forever, loneliness

Oh but with you right here you kept it warm

.

You’ll find that life is worthwhile if you smile

If you just smile, but better, with your kiss

I tried walking away, ended a mile

Let go of sadness, grab you and find bliss

.

So I took your hand and said it was time

Picked up your favorite silky nightgown

Darling, that night you’re looking like a dime

Just want to drag you, leave this goddamn town

.

Oh darling, happiness is introduced

Heavily, I am heavenly seduced

Tyranny of Madness

OH YOUR HIGHNESS

YOUR KINGDOM IS FAILING

YOUR PEOPLE ARE ASKING

WHAT IS THE QUEEN DOING?

YOUR KINGDOM, YOU SAID, IT IS YOUR HEART

THE PEOPLE, YOU SAID, THEY ARE YOUR ORGANS

THE KNIGHTS, YOUR DEFENSE FROM INSANITY

THE THRONE, YOUR IDENTITY

THE KING… YOUR SOUL

.

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE KING?

YOUR PEOPLE ARE SHAKING

DID HE LEAVE YOU AT LAST?

THE KINGDOM, IT IS BURNED DOWN, ALL SHATTERED, TORN INTO PIECES

WHAT IS A KINGDOM WITHOUT ITS KING ANYWAY?

WAKE UP YOUR HIGHNESS

FOR I HAVE SEEN SOMETHING GRUESOME

YOUR KNIGHTS… THEY’RE WOUNDED, NEARLY DEAD…

WITH THEIR SWORDS JABBED ON THE KING’S THROAT

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“Once you know sadness, he never leaves; A sullen shadow aching in the recesses of the past. An after taste of hunger, outline of once emptiness that lingers long after memory has passed.”