‘Maybe you should write’
As I struggled to find sleep yet again, I told myself, ‘maybe you should write’, writing was always a refuge for me, a place where my mind could explore and expand, but then I could no longer find the time and, I wonder what my refuge became or what it now is?
These days I just keep a perennial journal filled with the sagas of my dramatic romantic life. Usually, I add an entry to process an emotion I am feeling; love, guilt, indecision, boredom and even recently rejection (a saga of note). This journal is comprised of inconsistent entries with a date stamp, a short and concise retelling of whatever has occurred in those few months, then I very dramatically end off with a poem which I address to the person referred to in that specific entry. In this way, I try to process how I felt, logically look at the set of occurrences and then investigate my own actions in the lead up to whichever event has occurred.
I try to be honest with myself, and I try to be gentle with people’s feelings but my desire to be captivated will always be my downfall. Anyway, what has brought me here tonight? That, I am still not sure of.
I am currently having a romantic saga as it were, one that is quite blinding to be honest, but have you ever spent just one wondrous night with a man and then he has to leave the country almost immediately? Not to return till after four months has passed? The infatuation is maddening. Generally, I enjoy infatuation, it's a short timespan in which everything about your presence is passion-filled and I want to hear more and uncover all of your beauty… Then you say something, I notice something and quickly we fall into a comfortable existence in which we both are not perfect but we still delight in the other's presence all the same. However, due to his sudden departure and our unforeseen chemistry, I find myself drawn to the memory of his company and the beauty of his voice, I actually can't fucking stand it. He is not a flawed person yet, I certainly am but he is still but a beautiful experience, what we have is still a myth, a moment suspended in time and an everlasting candle-lit romance that has not yet taken shape.
My greatest character flaw and one that my friends are unable to make sense of is that I am a hopeless romantic. I love being in love, I enjoy and look forward to being in love with different people and giving and receiving love in different ways. I once told a man I was seeing briefly that if our romance did not burn hot then I did not see the point at all. However, just because we’re sexually attracted to each other does not mean we should be together, we may still have sex and to be honest, I do enjoy sustained monogamous casual sex over one-night stands. I hate surprises and I hate bad sex. But what I look out for is more beautiful than just sex and or mutual physical attraction, I want to have a fling, an engaging, enlightening, enchanting and entrancing romance with no length of time attached to it. So as you can imagine, very few men actually make it into my journal. That is just for men who’ve made me feel something and let's just say I am already onto poem two addressed to my latest love. Who is busier than even me, which I believe has made him even more attractive, and I already am attracted to him for various reasons which I will not list here for decency’s sake.
To be fair, I am usually disappointed by my own expectations, or perhaps perception which is often rose-tinted for a short period at least.
It's strange how effortlessly I am rattling on about the days of my love lives in order to avoid talking about why I am actually struggling to sleep.
Maybe next time, Good night.
