Hollow pursuits - a 2017 memory

Crap!
My soul is spellbound to be trapped into a loop of soothing memories that are blended with the sugar coating of wishful thinking. This by itself would be something wonderful to sink my reminiscing teeth into, but much like the proverbial sweetener, these memories are not without some unwelcoming side effects that leave a bruising heart. The irony of these recent assaults of memory is particularly annoying for the timing of it all, for these hollow recollections are shadowing what could have been a promising relationship.

One might argue, that the above mentioned pursuit of a past meaning is actually being driven by the jump start of this new relationship  with someone that is an absolute opposite of whom my memory recalls so fondly, even though so undeserving how much paradoxical this might seem.
They say karma is a bitch, and the last episode to confirm this folk belief came with a bitter taste from a Zomato review. How could I have not remember to remove from my account the friendship with this past lovely foe? I wonder if this is the clogging of too much social media apps, and I worry to think how many more apps can stalk me in the future without me suspecting.
Let me clear this to you keen minds.
A few days ago, I have gotten a warning from Zomato that my ex had post a new review from a local restaurant, by clicking on the warning, I have got to see it and I  was also served with the expected but unwanted Intel that her heart was also being served a course of passion.
Curses Zomato!!!
Why did you sour my day? How could you? Could you not tell that we were no longer in tune? That despite my stupid persistence for a love no longer given, that I a cannot be serve any information about that woman, specially about her love interests who do not interest me at all (may they be very happy and never have sour times {my lawyers demanded I included this sentence}).
And,(yes I start this paragraph with And and a comma, to emphasize), how come does this have to affect me, my life and my own possible current love interests?
Why do I have to dwell on the lyrics of a certain Edward Vedder, when he prophetically wrote

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life under somebody else's sky
But why, oh why, can't it be in mine?

I guess it couldn't and it won't. Period! (thank you Mr. Spicer)
So, my request to the universe is simply this... take this pain away from me, reset my heart, and allow me to fall in love for someone who clearly is more willing and  has more to give me, with much more respect, love and care than the previous one did. Instead of that someone that had been singing from day one that this would not last, and it would be ruined somehow... What heartfelt delivery of passion was hidden behind those turbulent predictions, that unfortunately revealed to be true.
I guess, when we repeat something like a Mantra so many times, it ends up catching on and becoming true.
Maybe, we can start using for positive stuff and the world can be a better place.

Mental note - must give a try to positive mantras.

For now, I just want to purge the hollow pursuit of thinking about an ex-love as the relationship of a life, and instead seeing it for what it was. A passage in a specific time set, where I had to love, to learn, to suffer and to inherit a new Iris. As far as the latter feline is concerned, I think I got off with the better part of the deal. And I will enjoy it better too, just as soon as I get the bitter feeling out of the way and enjoy the new wonderful life's propositions, that seem more promising than what 2016 unravelled and to some extent 2017 have been painstakingly underlining.

Written fall of  2017

Hell is going to underline my pain

Such irony populates my life. I do not think I'm suffering from dystopian illusions or utopian dreams.
Life recently granted me Prospect of love. I like it.
Alas I am not ready to receive it. The fair gender has produced a willing accomplice for my adventures in this earth.
However my heart beats for another. This is an ancient beat. This beat has been receiving harsh blows. I hope it finally dies. It has been a mean beat... A cruel beat!
I feel as if it's my own personal hell as it undermines any attempts to move on with my life. The constant reminder of how weak, pathetic and foolish I was in a previous affair. Joke of the universe!
How I wish it was the affair to remember but unfortunately it has proven to be the affair that keeps on pushing me to grief and sorrow.

I do not deserve this!
I deserve the chances to write new memories with this new love that joyfully unfolds with each encounter.
My first reactions have been of comparison, of disregard, of complaints... When instead they should have been actions of welcoming and thankful sharing.

I hate this moment.
The crossroad of love, where a duel of fates unfolds...
Not a true duel.
Reality Vs a Fantasy.
 The fantasy of the rescuer that comes back to fight for me... Vs the reality of the true resilient fighter who is ready to unfold love with no strings attached, just good humour, romance...
So what is it about this past that traps me so. Why can I not let go, even after months of mutual neglect... Of knowing that the other person has found love in the arms of another. After being told in many ways that my presence is not desired... What is it that blocks myself... Why am I trapped into this delusion?
I want to shout
Scream a pain
Cry my sorrow
I feel intolerably lonely, while having the best of times with someone who is willing to share the world with me.
Why oh why do I linger in the pointless feeling...
I hate myself for being pointless

Loveless year

May all the ones who shed a tear of love for me for the past 365 days forgive me, as I am not worthy of such affection.
My focus has been to endure the loss of my own deception, as I did believe that I had found a love of my own to cherish the rest of my days.
The good news is that I have no idea when my demise is set to occur, the odd news is that the baseless search of a proper replacement came with catastrophic results to those who put their feeling in me.
I deserve love as much as any other fella but I am not able to love by request. The few times I was granted the feeling, I was a victim of its intrusion rather than a welcoming host. Still, on the odd moments where the tune was the same for both hearts singing, I was blessed with the desire of an eternal of bliss of such magnitude.
Sadly, the magnitude of the feeling was not mutual and the length was scarce, which brings me to current times, where love as no dominion, but only echoes with vague promises of whatever love may be can be heard in the dead of night over the digital waves of our time.
My pursuit of love is much based on the "baseless fabric of this vision" - a chance to share without reservation or condition; the possibility of feeling the connection through a wink, a smile, a touch, a sigh, a breath, a single demonstration of affection that would leave no doubt in the path for that most wanted road of love.
The digital airwaves have produced ironic results, a willing partner that had way too many expectations for what dreams may come, and a partner thousands of miles away that could as well be eons out of sync.
And any attempts to rekindle that which was severed exactly one year ago was received with a dire No, on the grounds of lack of reciprocity.
Attempts to approach people that share the same time and space with me have been futile, either if they have a common context or if they are completely oblivious of who I am, and find themselves surprised by the proposition that a complete strange may notice them and is willing to expose himself with the following words:
Hello! You strike me as an interesting person.
If you want to know more, I am there.

Two weeks later
A longer trial, with more facts being exchanged, only to be received with suspicion.
The current  world does not reward the brave fools who dare expose themselves to the possibility of an hello.



And like so many others, these past few summers are tragic to me.
Either my friends are far away, or I feel intolerably lonely by the deprivation of what I hold dear - my sense of conspiracy with a fellow human to inspire awe in a shared fashion.

It is impossible not to be sad for a second, when this day reminds me, of all the possibilities this year could have unfolded, if my accomplice of back then was in tune with me to conquer the world by the mere presence of love.

I guess no new love can blossom if the soil I have to offer is still tainted with the resentment of being a castaway from the voyage I was willing to share with a true immortal beloved.

A purification time is still needed. Maybe soon enough, my passion can be cleansed from all the clogged shadows produced by a path of wishful thinking .

I am getting tired of the constant failures pertaining this regard.
I want to deserve better luck and enjoy all the perks that come with it.

Delightful deceits of August

This month last year meant the end of a dream.
October after that meant the birth of an illusion
And for Christmas I was painfully free from illusions and dreams.
Reality kicked in 2017, but I still managed to give someone a deceitful illusion for the first half of January.... hurray to me :)

Now, I see myself facing what August will bring.
I was never in love with August. It haunts me with strange memories not pleasant.
I saw fires up close in the peak of the summer in 88.
As a boy, the summer, particularly during this month I would watch all my friends go way with their families for awesome vacations, where I would stay with my folks or would be taken to my grandparents house up North where there was not that much to do. Actually there was, but there were no kids my age to play with. So sometimes I would be bored.
In 2012, I saw my dreams being emptied by mere expressions of boredom.

I am trying to change my attitude towards the summer.
I am giving alone time a break.
So I pick myself and head off to the beach and read there.
As long as August does not trick me again in believing that good things will come, I think I will be fine.
But then, in 2013 I had a gift from Spain. Completely unexpected and dreamy for a few months.
It lasted all the way to February of 2014.
I guess there was no deceit there and it was delightful.

My life is like that delights and deceits.
I expect the best, but then somehow inspire the opportunity to spur its worse.
Is it my fault? Am I just a spitting  machine of platitudes? Empty words for full ideas without merit in a real world?
I wonder. I think I can be delightful in any month. But for some reason... August tends to bring me deceits.
This year, August will take me on a tour for work. That will be the delight. The deceit I will be working in motion - Spoiler alert: I bought Dramamine to avoid car sickness.

good grief. This august might make me want to throw up.
Well, I used to throw up on my way to my grandparents place... and that could happen in August... so no surprise there... but the journey then was deceitful. I wonder how it will be

I will keep you posted!

Anxious

Attention readers!

This morning I woke up feeling anxious. I woke up quite early. There was a erie feeling. Something is crushing my chest. I went to drink a glass of water, came back to bed and I was still feeling the same unrestfulness.

It is quite strange to feel so empty sometimes, specially after feeling so much joy during the past few days. I do not know what prompt this. Maybe I cannot shake the feeling of loneliness. 

I guess the anxiety comes from the unknown, from the inability to scrutinize what reality is offering us, but at the same time, the gifts given you cannot fully comprehend.

I'll try again to Slumber into deep sleep hoping to find a piece that is missing which hopefully will grant me some peace.

For now I would feel intolerably lonely if it was not for the care of the unique Iris.

Back in a few...

Requiem for two fantasies by an editor

Imagine, if you will, that you  have been granted the ability to dream, nay, to fantasise about two possible outcomes for your life.
One in a far away land filled with entanglements and journeys daring and heart warming to fill ten thousand life times. The other, close by, built by the specs of sand that cover any given beach. Sand that could be witness the birth of a shared look, gazing like a reflection yet unwilling, yet irresistible to condense in one second the same life times as before, but with the intensity that gods only knew when the light was born eons ago.

I tell you dear friends, this July has been a friend. Fantasies have been emerging from unsuspecting corners. But like " the baseless fabric of this vision" they leave me with the scarce memory of "what dreams may come".
For now, I sum the friendship beyond the oceans to rise my soul to heights of new comforts. I am pleased.
I do not count much more on these fantasies, but I am still thankful for the opportunity to dream. "To reach the skies" and believe that fantasies may fuel actions to shape realities. I am now content with the little visions this month unfolded.

The requiem for these fantasies is most certain, but the soothing memory will linger on, and most likely keep me going searching for welcoming strangers that appear by form or innuendo.

So as I am about to start a new week of image weaving I take the inspiration of these past days close to heart and hope that all that I do can fill others with the same contentment as "these spirits who apeared" confide in me (with words or with glances).

I am yet, a better person now. What more can I aspire to be...

Flight from the city

I flew.
I left a world of possibilities behind as the city on the edge of forever was moving further away. The delicate fantasy that once was... Was there no more. I cannot recall if I dove into it for a week, for a month, for an eternity. Something tells me that somewhere down the line I stayed there as a strayed cat that found a nest that would sooth the emptiness of  previous lonely paths.

The city showed so much promise, but like so many others, after over staying its welcoming allure, the city had no place for me. The air was too soft and the sun was too bright. The blindness was almost permanent if it was not for the heeded warnings of those who see far beyond the single nature of their own realm.

A missing link procures me. The feeling that I have been here before, down this road, but not exactly down this city. The familiar view of the clouds passing by my window remind me the unforgiving wheels of time invite me to become older, leaving new friends behind.
No fantasies are allowed in the unforgiven setting of reality. Platitudes are presumed to be the norm of the falling dreamer. Once wrapped about his thoughts of possible ways, the dreamer now awakes as a stowaway, somewhat delirious with the faint sounds of the unwilling siren.

What is it that the cities of the world seem to be populated with creatures that feed of emotion but can only dwell in logic, accept not the mere proposition that the propulsion of any dream  comes from the challenge of that the status quo and the willing to prove it wrong, hence replacing it for a review version, which allows dreams from any city to write the rule in any world.

Now, as I am about to collapse to oblivion, I am ready to surrender to the logical thought that emotional dream for the fantasy that was on this city, was sadly not to be.

And so, I carry on, yet alone, yet lonely.

But who remembers...