Timothy

Jack's Twisted Kingdom
2007-05-27 21:06:59 (UTC)

lust and the other madness...

“Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it
tyrannizes.”

- Marquis De Sade


I honestly don't know how this will all play out, this,
tempestuousness I've involved myself in. I don't want to
screw it up like, oh, I don't know, 89% of every other
relationship I've ever embarked on. But there's this
nagging at the back of my mind, that I'll end up being
ejected, and although it does seem entirely unlikely,
until, the moment of truth, so to speak, that jaded
and cynical creature that lays within shall fester it's
wrath, clawing away at me, and grafting it's ugly self
indulgence upon my hard wrought feelings.

if you can't trust, you can't love, it's that simple. is it
really though?

But we shall see, won't we. I can only hope my own lack
of self esteem doesn't wreck it, but I have little faith in
other people. Not to say I don't have faith that things will
be as they aught to be, or not. But I've been here before,
standing on the edge, heart in hand, soul exposed, mind
embraced in those most tantalizing thoughts, waiting to fall
in those arms I've hoped for. I don't know what I'm waiting
for, I don't know if she's waiting for something, some
misstep on my part, some, failing that I've yet to expose.

I think too much. I know this, I've been told that numerous
times.

I once got dumped by a girl who as intimidated by the amount
of female friends I had at the time, she thought I might
cheat on her, she couldn't have been more wrong. I don't
cheat, never have, and never will. I just happen to be one
of those weird guys who happens to have a select group of
friends, and most of them happen to be girls. I think
however what it comes to, is that if I can't imagine someone
being my equal, I don't want them as friends. And most guys
I know, are simpering idiots, who only talk about fucking.
This is not, a bad thing, it is however not something I want
to talk about to a guy. Perhaps it comes down to an alpha
male dominance thing, perhaps it's that I only surround
myself with members of the distaff gender to further my
appeal, my vanity, or perhaps it's that having been raised
by my mom, and only ever being around chicks, that I tend to
like them better. I don't know. I love women. I adore them,
I'm a romantic, and I suppose my notions of wanting to be
with someone who truly understands me, or might better relay
what it is that I'm seeking in a girlfriend, lover, what
have you, is served by such acquaintances.

of course, it could always just be bullshit. someone might
know better than I.

I'm alone. I'm lonely, even in a crowd of my closest
friends, to whom I'm but a stranger to, at times I've
inflicted this grievous wound upon myself, because I see
things on a grander scale. I wonder about if I'm a good
enough person to even grace the presence of some, and when I
think about some things, I'm filled with dread. better to
ignore something, than to be rejected. I've been rejected
so often, that I can't bear it anymore. and being alone with
my own thoughts is a dangerous thing. That raging beast of
what defined me, that core of my being is all I've ever
known, all I've ever been. I wonder now if I am not just
deluding myself, and wandering down a ruinous path into the
darkness that once descended upon me for much longer than I
thought possible. I've wasted so much time, done nothing,
accomplished nothing. I did more before I was 21 than I've
done since, and it burns inside me like acid, the red ichor
dripping from my veins in a once brave, and lurid attempt to
rekindle those old passions, that old desire to be free, and
trounce upon the land.

I've done this dance before. I've done it alone. I no longer
wish to be.

I can't escape these things. I wouldn't want to. you can
either accept me for who I am, or not. and while I
absolutely care what she thinks, and want her to accept me,
if she doesn't, so be it. I'll weep ichor, and throw my
heart onto stone walls and with bloodied fists raise myself
up again, ready to scale the pit I'll have thrown myself
into again. I've been down this road before. I don't want to
walk alone anymore. I desire her soul, her mind, her heart,
and I want what she has to offer, and I can only hope she
accepts what I have to offer her.

in the end. it comes down to actions not words. words are
meaningless in the end. deeds, shall sow the seeds, and
words will catalyze the lust into more than just that most
ephemeral whimsy so prevalent in my oft wanton desires.

I'll not walk away, she is imperfect, and therein lies her
perfection.


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