6. help me to answer the question


it’s crazy how i’ve become dependent on my conversations with you. i’ve learnt to care about what you have to say and sometimes i just want to call you spontaneously, i just want to grab you and hold you here and never let you go.
then, sometimes, i just want you gone, completely, out of my life. i want you to leave, using the very same door you used to get in here, leave without leaving any traces of you in my heart, my home, my life.

i even know what it is that makes me feel like this. that’s right, i know.

it’s your posh, middle class ideals;
your typical perfect family with a mother that cooks, cleans, looks after the home and father who sits in the evenings reading a quality newspaper; 
your unwillingness to experience the world through teenage eyes preffering instead to live your life as a person of double your age would.

and yes, it’s wonderful to watch plays and attend dinner parties, but i want more than a boy acting middle-aged. i want that maturity without the deeply ingrained conservative inclinations, without the Kafka-style cynicism about humanity. could you do that?

and i wonder if you could, sometimes. i wondered about it today. it was wonderful, really: realising that i’ve found something so close to my ideal that i will never be able to make it my ideal, no matter how hard i try; realising that my ideal is unattainable and that an arrogant blue-eyed, blond, mathematically-inclined, yet literature-aware boy (provided one existed, and i’m sure that there are some) would never look upon me with anything but dismay. and even if i managed to show him my true self without him walking away at first, he’d still leave, because i’d only be a notch on his bed-post, a phase. a little like you are to me.

after Y, i realise, that i don’t need a boy to make me happy. i thought i’d never be able to let him go, but i have. i managed, somehow. it’s beautiful, wouldn’t you say? it’s odd, too. it’s odd how things change so quickly and effortlessly and how i, being able to psycho-analyse the lot of you, was unable to understand mayself at all.

i still don’t think i know myself, because, now, having found out you’re going to france for not even a week to spend your new year there, i feel sad. betrayed almost. how could you leave me? what will i do without our conversations? how will i cope without your shoulder to lean on?

strange. i felt like that with Y and look what’s happened. i can’t even talk to him without getting irritated. sometimes mildly, sometimes to the point where i need to then have heated discussions about him with you. or my dad. or my mum. 

and yet, you somehow think i’m still competing for him, but i just laugh it off. it’s nonsensical. there is no truth in it. i don’t want him, no. i think i may have loved him one time, a while back now. hell, maybe he even loved me.

then again, what is love?
that’s a question i can’t answer for some reason, so help me to. please help me to.

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4 responses to “6. help me to answer the question

  1. J.Alfred Prufrock

    ‘and how i, being able to psycho-analyse the lot of you, was unable to understand mayself at all.’

    Your idea of these people is a fiction. You don’t them from the wind.

  2. it’s sometimes hard to admit that we keep fragments and pieces of each person we have loved, and each new relationship carries those pieces within it, no matter how much you or your loved one fights it, they are there, staring, lurking, waiting… whispering in our heart.. it can be so puzzling why they linger when we know we are finished with the past…

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