I am getting tired of this.

Gate my brain, chain my heart. I want to sleep for once in my life, without the thought of someone just waltzing into that big thick skull of mine. It would work tremendously you know, if I didn’t have to miss that certain dancer roaming around in there, who might or might not have graceful movements, gracious and lusty hips that cannot lie, and piercing eyes.

It’s not the sex; nor is it the lack of feeling. It is the excessive capacity to feel that hurts me, that tears apart any concept of peace and quiet that I have in my mind. I could never be a “player”. I could never break the link between body and mind, want parts of someone else but not in their entirety. I hate that if I love someone, I love them as they are, all of them, in all their glory, all their fiery disadvantages and downsides.

Which to be honest don’t really count. I don’t know if you’ve ever really loved someone — I presume that at least once you have. If you have more than once, I pity you because you’re in deep shit. Everything they do looks good, whatever they say sounds like a good proposition. Which is why our inner compass goes bananas when we hear “it’s not going to work” because we are tuned to agree to what they say. It makes sense, and in this case it makes sense but then it means that something bad is coming. And how could something bad come out of the lips you love and adore? And why the room is getting smaller and smaller and why do you occupy a tiny corner of it all of a sudden?…

I need to catch my breath; give me a second…

Okay, a sip of whatever shitty thing I’m drinking and we continue.

The brain is a marvelous human organ except when it fucks up and makes you fall in love. Because everyone thinks we fall in love with the heart, but no, that’s not right, sorry. Those curves you can’t take your eyes off, those are hormones and the cerebral evaluation of steamy sex with her will be what does it. And if she has beautiful eyes, well then son, you’re royally fucked because you can look at her like the stars eternally and not get bored. If she’s smart too, then you might as well just jump off the cliff; for all you know just that could be the one to make you eternally happy.

And then something will go wrong, and then you’ll feel physical pain, and then this is where the heart is involved. Because it’s been pumping all that blood that makes your cheeks blush and other organs, well, look excited, and now it feels like the purpose of it has been defeated. It feels like you had something, and now you don’t, and the brain can’t really comprehend it. It’s like a period of withdrawal but it’s also physical, you might gain some weight, you might lose some, you might change everything on you and still it would make no sense.

We masquerade our pain quite well in the era of social media and endless selfies. A smile is easy to fabricate, easier to sell, tougher to feel. We resort to make-believe techniques and hope that we’ll take something of that fairy-dust we sell all our “friends” and followers. And the days go by and somewhere in this shitstorm called adulthood we hope that a pair of hands will touch our face and we’ll breathe deep, and in that big thick skull of ours the brain will


From joy. Not despair.

Author: Michael Poe

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