Projecting my shit

I have always put my thoughts into writing, it’s my way of understanding them. There is nothing like the feeling of seeing your ghosts take a shape that you can touch, writing makes it all real, and reality is always clearer then, I guess everything non real. I wrote something called “the diary of our breakup” where I would write for pages and pages about what I was thinking and feeling, and the reason I did that is because I was sick of listening to myself, if I was sick, I can only imagine how my friends were, I wrote so I would keep my friends, I will be there if any of them needs me, but I’m not sure I would have ability to be as kind and patient with any of them would the situation be reversed. And that’s how you know you don’t deserve them. I was looking for something else and I found some letters, letters I wrote a long time ago, and for someone who doesn’t believe in coincidences they sure do happen. Some time ago I was talking to my friend and she was in a similar situation to mine, to be clear, my ex traded me for another person just because he wanted more sex, something like that. Some years ago her boyfriend did the same thing, and after it happened she thought “ok, that’s out of your system now we can pick up where we left off”, and she thought I was going to do the same thing. I was so stunned that I didn’t even say that that thought never even crossed my mind. This entire possibility that I could just be ok with everything and have such a rational approach to this was inconceivable to me. And I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I have been thinking about the what if’s of the question, but today I found some letters, and in one of them I said “I assure you that no matter how much I want you back, I will never do anything to make that happen. And if you want me back in your life you will have to change so much, and I’m not even sure I’m worth all of that”. Little pearls of wisdom! I’m so happy that I wasn't a complete idiot, I will sleep without my idiot self tonight, she’s uninvited.

There’s a guy who never recognizes me, we met seven times in the past month, and he never knows who I am, and that’s the perfect reality check in the world. Good for you for not knowing who I am! Although I’m starting to get annoyed at it, I think it’s for the best, it’s refreshing and new and just the right amount of irritating. This is where interest goes to die.

Tonight I was feeling sad, and alone. I miss my friend, and a little bit more than that. I was sitting in the garden, getting bitten by everything that was there and feeling grateful that my dog was there with me just leaning a little bit against my back, just enough so he could still be in petting range. So I’m thinking that it sucks that my neighbors are having what sounds like an awesome party and I was there all alone, thinking how much I missed the idea of someone. And then my dog, who weighs at least 25kg started trying to get in my lap, like when he was a puppy, of course he could only fit one leg, a head and part of the shoulder blade on my lap, leaving the rest of it, hanging ridiculously on the floor, in what seemed like the most uncomfortable position in the world, he just wanted to be held for a little bit, and although I am one hundred per cent projecting my shit on my dog, I had this feeling of democracy, we all just want to be held and completely loved, even if it’s just for as long as we can withstand the ridiculous pose, so if we are all searching for the same al alone, then we have each other’s miserable company, all except me, I’m a blast..

I regret kisses

I have a friend who keeps me grounded. He doesn’t mean to, really, he means nothing, but I can’t help to get a little carried away when it comes to him, my mind goes to places it shouldn’t, and I have to make this idea, this build up that is so detached from reality that it scares me. My mind makes me sad, no. My mind takes me places, makes up scenarios where I’m incredibly happy, and then reality brings me back. But never all the way down, I get to this suspended happiness, because if I can think it then there is a chance it can happen. And that’s where he comes in, he doesn’t even try, like most man haha, he just Is and is the most cruel and honest wake-up call ever. I don’t think, obviously, in general of course, but about love specifically, in love I just am, I will happily go wherever I’m taken. This doesn’t come from a passive attitude, I have my eyes on the end goal, always seeing the broader picture so who cares if a few strokes are a bit different? It’s all a part of the picture. He thinks. He over thinks, he is a planner, my sister told me that she didn’t liked him for me, because he just “knew too much about life” she knows I don’t think, she knows he does, he has a plan, and it’s dangerous to play a game when you don’t know by which rules the other one is playing. So I get carried away, and he never does. It’s always wrong until it’s the right one. I have kissed 7 guys in my life and I have this idea that I don’t want to get to double digits and still be looking for whatever, I have 3 more chances, 3 more guys to kiss. Now when the situation presents itself I have to think “is this worth one of the slots?”, and thinking is good, but then again, so is kissing, and you only regret the things you didn’t do right? Although I regret a few of those kisses, actually I regret kisses I had but zero I hadn’t... I’m in a dangerous mood, a friend is coming, a nice sweet kissable friend. Note to self: start thinking, and the sooner the better. Can you exorcise your kissing needs by writing about them? The inside scoop says no. step away from anything even remotely kissable, when in desperate need picture          . If you get nauseous from picturing someone kissing someone does that mean that you have feelings for that person? If so I have much more feelings then what I thought, it’s freaking feelings Christmas over here. Dangerous times call for dangerous games.

Exactly how many

What if you had a magic something that could answer to all of you questions? Could be a magic ball, a magic pair of underwear, a magic toast, doesn’t matter. What would you ask? Besides all the important stuff I would ask the most random questions ever, I was thinking about this today, the rules are: you have unlimited questions and the answers are either numbers or yes and no, and of course it has to be something that is can actually know.  I would ask a ton of times the most random questions ever, “how many people are pooping right now in the entire world?”, “how many tomato seeds exist in my salad?”, “is my wallet/keys/purse/phones in this house?”, “did anyone noticed that I went out with my grandmothers nightgown?”, “how many people laughed at me instead of with me?”, “was it real?”, “Will my parrot ever stop biting me?”. And then you have the practical questions, the everyday life questions “Is this jackass telling the truth?”, “is the file I need in my computer?, “am I forgetting something?”, “is this cleavage too much?”, you get it. No more wondering, I could live without wondering about this trivial questions, but most of all I think it would be the best thing ever, you would always have new things to ask and then you would be the unbearable person who knows everything. Beautiful

If you could know exactly how many times you would still fall in love, would you do it? Would you like to know? Is this a similar question to the famous “would you like to know when you are going to die?”. Do we regard the mystery of love the same as we do death?

I think, given the choice I would like to know. I can live without the mystery, I sometimes reed the end of books, I only read it after I create a bond with the characters, I care about them, and knowing what is going to happen gives me time to process it. I always need time for that, I am not one to make rash anything, decisions, judgments, statements. I think it’s just because I hate regrets, I hate that feeling that I did something wrong and that I can’t take it back. This is beyond the point.

I would like to know what’s the ending to my book, not specifics, but in general strokes. Will I ever live in a house filled with cats, or will I die a horrible painful death while young, or something else, nobody knows. A part of your future is your responsibility, but it can’t be 100% you, that will drive you crazy. If 100% of your future is your responsibility then, all the special shit that happens to you is also your fault, as well as all the shit that doesn’t happen to you. You and I are not 100% responsible for our future, I am still crunching the numbers to see exactly how much are we to blame for it, so I will get back to you on that one.

I wouldn’t like to know when I will die though. When you know that you start counting down, I never want to count my days down to zero, I want to add them not subtract them. I feel like moving. I feel like disappearing, Houdini is gone but not forgotten.