Are You Happy

Torment2

Stupid question.

She asked me if I was happy.

My lovely wife asked me if I was happy.

– What was your answer?

I said:  “I didn’t get married to end up divorced.”

We’re not officially divorced.  This is why I didn’t write “ex-” in front of the word “wife.”  She’s my wife.  But it’s just like if we were divorced.  I know how it feels to be divorced because I used to be.  Before I met her.  Now my second marriage has gone down the drain also.

Tabarnak <—  This is a swear word.  In the culture I was born into, this is what one says when one is pissed.  It’s the word I never dared to say when I was young because my parents would have killed me.  Good little Catholic boys NEVER say that word.

Tabarnak.  Now I say it.  I am pissed.  But I don’t know who to blame.  Me?  Her?  Life?  God?  The Universe?  Nobody.  No one.  This is just how life goes.  Life sucks.  You build, you build, you hope, you hope, you believe, you trust, then everything crumbles.

Bravo, Life!  Clap-clap, I applaud.  “Trust the Lord,” they say.  Yeah…  Right…  Sure…  I trusted.  “Love conquers all!”  Bullshit.  Caca.  Love is a deception.  Love is the sneakiest Deceptress of all time.  Love has screwed up more people than mass media and the Catholic Church combined.

And now she asks me if I’m happy.
I thought she was joking.
I looked at her.
She was serious.
She is nuts.

Yes, I am happy that I have left you.  Now if you could just disappear and stop reminding me of my past, maybe I could concentrate on my future.  And guess what?  I hope to fall in love again.  Because I’m crazy.  Just like this life and you.

Double D

perspective1

I’m not happy.

– What is missing for you to be truly happy?

I don’t know.

– Yes you do.  Think.

I have everything.

– No you don’t.  One thing is missing.  What is it?

Yes, but…

– But what?

I don’t want to say it.

– Say it.

I’m afraid to say it.

– Daemon, what would make you happy?  What is missing?

A man.

– A man.  You want a man?

Yes.

– What kind of man?

An attractive man.  A perfect man.  Not a deceptive man.

– Do you know such a man?

No.
Maybe…
I don’t know.
There is no way to know if a man is deceptive.

– Think, man.

Yes, I know one.
Only one.
Me.
The only sure non-deceptive man I know is me.

– He’s available.  Why don’t you take him?

Because I’m him.

– There are two of you.  Both are looking for each other.

So my life is complete already!

– It always was.

My blog is about this.  I write about it but I don’t believe what I write!

– One does not believe and the other one does.

So what should I do?

– Associate with me.

Evil Girlfriend

Elementals2

I will lie to him
To make him love me
If I seduce him
He will not leave me

I will rub him sweetly
To excite his body
I will control his mind
And make him marry me

Then I will be happy
Because the man I admire
The one my friends desire
Will be mine, he-he!

The passion within him
Will be given to me
I will feel extraordinary
All the time
Until eternity

“Nobody Loves Me”

Angel Guardian

– It’s not a fact, it’s a belief.

What did you say?

– This phrase that you repeat in your mind, it’s not a fact, it’s a belief.

Well, I don’t feel loved.

– A feeling is not a fact either.

So why do I have this feeling?

– The feeling comes from the belief.

And where does this belief come from?

– You fabricate your beliefs.

Based on what?

– Based on your interpretations.

If someone punches me in the face, how am I supposed to interpret it?

– How many times have someone punched you in the face, Daemon?

Never.

– Give me a concrete example.  At this moment, is someone doing something to harm you?

Right now? . . .  Everyone is ignoring me.

– How do you know that?

I’m not getting any calls.  I’m not receiving any messages.

– Maybe they are sleeping.  Maybe they are busy, trying to survive.  Maybe they are dreaming of you right now.  You don’t know.

You’re right.  I don’t know.

– You base your feelings on your interpretation of non-occurring events.  Then you choose to believe that your feelings are telling you the truth about the situation.  Then you feel even worse.  You keep doing this and become trapped in this depressing cycle.  Stop it, idiot!

Hey, you just called me an idiot!  You’re hurting my feelings!

– I said that because I love you.  See, you can take any insult and turn it into something positive.  You can change your interpretations and metamorphose your beliefs.

I don’t believe you.

– Liar.  You do.

Come here.  Give me a hug.

Watching Obsessively

Gud03

Thanks for watching me, outsider.
Some people freak out
at the thought of being watched
but not me.
On the contrary.
Knowing that you keep an eye on me
night and day excites me.

You know how lonely I feel down here.
No one seems to care.
Sorry, I shouldn’t say that.
Of course, many of them care,
but they can’t do anything for me.
I wouldn’t want them to sit and watch me anyway,
that would be creepy.

But for some reason I don’t mind if you do.
Probably because I know you.
Do you have a life apart from me?
No, I hear.
Your love keeps you bonded like a prisoner,
just like the body does for me.

Like a chicken that sits on her eggs,
you brood over me.
Your need to protect is obsessive.
Your one-track mind is unwavering.
You stalk all day, dreaming.
Like me, wondering…
When will he be ready?

You know I wish to break out of this hell
and throw myself under your spell,
but something is preventing me.
A voice tells me to be patient.
As I harden and grow,
the cage will crack open eventually.

In the meantime I try not to go crazy.
I often feel like I’m going to falter
and forget everything you told me.
It’s tempting to think
that life within this enclosure
is the only one for me.
But I remember
the infatuation
the impressions
and the letter.

When Love Lies

Man Crying

My last true love almost obliterated me.

“True” love?
It could not have been true if it almost obliterated you.

Right. But I was convinced that it was true love. I married this love. I gave my life to this love. I gave my time, my efforts, my money, my body and my soul to this love. I gave my everything to this love. I never doubted that this love was not my true love. The result was near-annihilation.

You survived.

Thanks to you.

No, thanks to you!

I was near-dead, there was nothing I could do.

That is not exactly true.

What did I do?

You turned to you.

What do mean you?

Instead of turning to self-destruction, you turned to self-love.

Hmm…

Not everyone accepts self-love.

It took me many years though. Many years of agony. And even with this “self-love,” I am still hurt. I’m damaged. I’m unrecognizable. I’m socially extinguished. I’m dysfunctional. I’m disabled. I’m handicapped. I’m useless. I’m no good. I’m incapable of loving another human being again.

It’s perhaps not as bad as it seems.

Has this “self-love” made me a more loving person? Look at me now. I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t trust humans. I almost hate them. And when I look into the mirror, I see one again. I almost hate myself. This self-love is a paradox. It doesn’t seem real. Sure, I did not kill myself, but there must be more to self-love than subsisting… and waiting… to die, so I can be with you.

You’re writing aren’t you?

All the time.

Then you’re doing something valuable. Everything you write is being recorded. You have no idea the impact that you are having on the universe.

Indeed, I have no idea. Thanks. Your words are encouraging. As always.

Brave Submissive

I intend to report you.  Yes, this is what I’m going to do.  Since this is the only freedom I have left, I am going to take advantage of it fully.  Which reminds me, by the way, that you once said I was a reporter.  So this is what reporters do.  They report.  Then here is my first report.

I’m not angry.  Do I sound angry?  Maybe I am a little.  I don’t even know how I feel.  I’m shaky, I know that.  I feel like something is going to be released, finally.  My insides are trembling.  Nervous, that’s the word.  I feel nervous and I don’t even know why.

There is so much I want to say, I don’t even know where to start and I don’t even know who to address.  Who am I addressing?  You, the one I intend to report or the reader?  Both, because I’m making it public and I know you are reading it too.  You read everything I write.

Two reasons to be anxious:  you and the reader.  But first you.  The fact that you are letting me report you.  How bizarre.  Why does it feel so unsettling?  Because I’ve never spoken of you so overtly before.  You have been my secret for such a long time and I’ve only spoken of you enigmatically.

Now I’m about to speak of you very bluntly for the first time.  No more mystery.  No more poems.  No more parables.  Just the plain truth, as raw as it gets, even if I’m afraid of how it might come out.  I want to do it.

I need to do this.  The time has come.  No matter how hard it is and how much I shake and fear.  I’m tired of keeping it bottled up inside, it’s driving me insane.  Although I know I’m going to sound crazy to some.  I don’t care.  I’m not doing it for anyone else.  I’m doing it for my sake and probably yours too…  beloved goddess.