sabato 18 giugno 2011

I wanna Be Your Toilet: A Cautionary Tale Of Self Hatred

Once upon a time, in a more simple world, where thoughts were more binary and events were more linear, the boy and the girl used to be in love.

The boy was never a popular person. He wasnt an utter failure, he could handle life, in his own way, but he got enough awkwardness and scars in his head and heart to be completely crippled in the way he handled strong feelings. He tried and failed so many times that he just became content with his condition of exploiter of short bursts of feelings, short term relationships and one night stands. Then he realized she was still there.

He used to have a crush on the girl since he was a kid. She came in his life, usually with other guys, and somethign about her, the way she movied and the way she gave vibes through her eyes, always made him feel differently than anything else. He had learned since the first moment he saw her, moving thorugh the corridors of high school that he would've been glad to emabarass himself for her.

And he did. He courted her, obsessively, like Steve Urkel. He wasnt ugly or a nerd but he never really learned what he was supposed to do when it came to actual love. All he knew was how you handled stupidity with alcohol and drugs and how to have sex as an accident. But he didnt know how you loved someone. So he ended up just being ridiculous and over the top. With flowers, poems, songs, gifts. With drunken revelations on a dancefloor, which ended with her just pushing him away and going with a more confident person, some time a friend of his, that like male friends do, took the first move on her not because he wanted to, but to prove who's stronger.

He shed tears and even humiliated himself on television show. That was another story and a mess too.

Then years passed and he changed. They were both ugly ducklings and they both blossomed in their own way. He became more confident, she became sexy. And one night they randomly found each other, kissing in the moonlight in an alley, while cars passed them and honked. That was the peak of a courting that went on for years and would mark them forever. They blasted off like fireworks and a sentence like "I will love you forever, no matter what" still meant something then.

They made love everywhere and sucked out the force of the world to light up their own universe where a sweaty bed and lots of silent stares wer all that they needed for unlimited time.

It took only a year to fizzle out. It was an intense year, they gave it all. And they ended up without strength. She wanted to move on and he didnt know how to hold on to her. She told him they needed to talk and left him sitting and waiting on a doorstep for hours. Not even almost dying a thousand times and falling into a pit of sticky knives made of pills wouldve hurt that bad again. Waiting to hear "go away", and crying. And understanding that no matter what he did, or what she said, what was once safe and strong and the center of their world had just died.

He crawled out of that hole but he never was the same again.

After years of bad friendships, nails in coffins, fake feelings, drugs, and self destruction, she popped up again. he didnt know what she wanted. She probably didnt know either. They tried to be friends again.

They traveled. It seemed to make sense. But she wouldnt fuck him. It shouldve been a red flag but he was holding his head together barely those days. He was taking all sort of pills to stop his head from screaming tone deaf songs into his heart, So even that was helping somehow.

But there was so much weirdness. She treated him as a boyfriend one day then ran away the day after.

And still they traveled. They went to Majorca one month. She was making a choice, to go away forever, to change her life for the millionth time. He was barely able to sleep without popping up all sort of meds. He didnt know what to with it. And "it" was everything.

And it was hell. It was endless days of cold hearted discussions and sentences with nothing in them. Of moodswings and cruel indifference and jabs that were done just to hurt. Cause hurtin sometimes is like a drug.

One night, in that sticky air, full of mosquitos and humidity, where you can smell the love of others, they were sleeping in the same bed. He had kissed her feet and she had told him to die.

A door was opened and a man entered the room.

The boy was knocked out by sleeping pills, dreming of arm wrestling with Chuck Berry. She tried to wake him and at first he didnt answer. She thought he had been killed and she would get raped by the stranger, who just stood on the door silent.

The boy woke up, turned on the light. She was in tears. The man stood there and stared. What would he do? He would kill the guy, for her. No matter what, even if it meant getting killed. He would have to. Not for honour. Just to end that shit.

The stranger just said "Sorry, i got the wrong room" and ran away.

The girl went to the hotel's reception and shouted "A nigger enetered my room".

He tried to console her but nothing would fix it. Whatever was still floating died right there.

When she finally fell asleep, he went into the bathroom. He closed his eyes and thought of the past. He masturbated in silence. And he swore he would survive.

They never talked to each other again

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