64. when its not lego you’re playing with

my friendships fade the way snowangels lose their shape in the hale of falling snow.
the past is covered up by the present. the future cares little for memories. if at all.

little girls think that prefection is attainable.
i did.
i wanted it all: the prince, the fairytale, the works. i wanted the golden carriage, the friends you can trust. friends who trust you.

would you believe me if i told you i almost had it all?

no. stop. look here. open your palm, recieve a crocodile tear. that’s what X would call the by-product of my pain. 
maybe he’s right. maybe i don’t feel. maybe every tear cried for someone else is selfish. maybe i’m crying only for myself.

and now, imagine.
imagine the girl you knew from pri-school, long time ago now, shuts you out. one of your best friends for god knows how many years. you let her. you can’t be chasing her. it’s all too much. let her get away. weeks later you get mad, mad at her for not caring about your friendship, about putting her creepy male friend first. she denies. and then she relents. she tells you everything. or so you presume. she lost her virginity to him. got pregnant by chance that very first time. passed out when she found out. lost the baby soon thereafter. is still with her girlfriend now.

now tell me, what would you do?

how can you bridge the world anew when it’s not lego you’re playing with any more, but life?

7 responses to “64. when its not lego you’re playing with

  1. moondustwriter

    Real life is so painful compared to the “fairy tales” of reality we envision.

    Beautifully and sadly conveyed my friend

    Love from the Moon

  2. Brilliant!

  3. whoa! i was taken aback by the urgency, by the reality… and no, you are NOT selfish, and you are NOT unfeeling. the person you describe here is neck-deep in life – something not all human beings can claim.

    *virtual hug*

  4. “There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.” – George Bernard Shaw

    Writing poetry is to indulge the human condition. Whether its pain and suffering, or love and happiness. We are the legislatures of the world. These little stepping stones of our life which express the immortality of our hearts.

    I say, let him put that in his pipe and smoke it and carry on. You write very well, intimately expressive and honest. Which is more than he probably deserves.

    And when he is gone, only you will remain.

  5. thank you all so much!! i’m humbled to recieve such amazing feedback! i think that is what every writer (amateur or otherwise) yearns for.

    thank you guys :)


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    at this weblog, I have read all that, so at this time me also commenting at this place.

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