Shy

It's the morning, in that space which looks to me like a classroom, same width, same height; I was playing basketball against nba professionals... then 8th grade pupils, amazingly the flat and low ceiling didn't bother our exploits, to shoot and dunk; Later in this very morning, i'm at a desk placed on the center of the same room, drawing lines with a black pen, on my right there's a long series of window panes, letting the light enter covering my entire right side, after a while i raise my head to breath out of my concentration and i see you in a sun ray... straight from my window, at a handful of meters, there is a similar house with the same tremendous panels of glass, you're deeply concentrated, sitting on a tiny desk by the window, writing on a paper, strangely facing my own window; I have a shock as i recognize you, briefly i see your mom brings you a glass of juice, like she was encouraging you to do some labor; Quick, walking on tiptoes i hide in the shadows of the next room, i recover my ideas then i peek by the door-frame, i diagonal through the two huge windows, litterally staring at you, at first i thought "did she watch me throughout my morning activities, i hope i wasn't too rough... wincing, spiting", i observe you, you wear a pullover made of big threads, three faded colors, a pink almost white, a yellow, and a rust colored, entangled, tight on the skin, i couldn't impede my mind to think this obnoxious, manly comment : "she looks sexy", as you regularly lift your chin to glance outside i notice you're hair are cut short again, an impulsive, beveled cut by your own hand and i have a dreadful feeling that you lived a terrible period recently; For a while i watch you, always grasping the woodframe of my door, stretching my neck to see closer without revealing my presence, which i feared was too obvious through the two walls of glass of the two houses, with all the ruckus i did in this spring morning; Suddenly a crispy ring gets me out of my dreamy state, a man is at my door, i let him in, he has wide shoulders, short matt copperly hair, translucent eyes, the nordic type, he seems tough and for a moment i wonder if it's not your bodyguard came here to break my jaw as he caught me mentally sneaking into your room.

what will i be next

A little story :

Let's imagine a couple, a bald man or with scarse hair and a woman, i believe that if we ask the woman, and despite the fact that i'm sure she probably loves him, "what would you change about your boyfriend physically if you could?", then i'm sure she'll say "i wish he'd have more hair!", so that means if the guy had more hair she'd love him more, and if she meets someone else with a little less personality but with a little more hair (aboundant hair), she could fall for him and leave the other guy; This is why i hate myself, i'm on the quest of absolute, but if i lose my hair (inevitable for guys, but the later the better) absolute becomes clearly, definitevely unconceivable anymore. My quest is vain.

between states

I sleep so much that i lose the sense of what's real

what is living

my head is dizzy, my ears burn

i open the window to ventilate myself

the moon is shy behind massive clouds

of a grey so dark i confound it with the night

the fresh wind on my cheeks takes away my fever

and the appealing lights urge me to travel

in straight line on agile feet

comes a disanchanted thought

reality is too much for myself alone

i will miss a warm place to welcome me

and a comprehensive guide along the way

...

an unspeakable flash of arms as a home

Learn yourself and get rid of the now useless habits

(this is kind of long and boring, instant thoughts written on paper at first, it's like the booklet of an electronic device, well i put it here anyway, i keep a trace, maybe this will allow some ideas to germinate)

Feel is an ability developped through childhood and even before that, it starts as soon as you're born, if for too long as a child you strongly feel (which will grow into beliefs) that your life, litteraly, and your sanity depends on one person protecting you then you'll end up believing that you are nothing without such a person, in your adult life you'll search reassurances in others, because you'll have built an extremely sharp ability to feel in order to read, to preserve your security (life and death matter in your mind) incarnated by one person, an object, a space. Unfortunately the majority of people didn't grow the same need as you, they usually learn to love themselves as individuals, so they won't give you the amount of respect and attention you seek (as high as a mother/child relationship, the person you depend on as a child is generally a parent). finally you'll perceive the behaviors around you as rejects and you'll feel hurt because your needs won't be satisfied and because you, in your functioning, your conditioning, will give your all to the others (you'll depend of the love given by the others, while those who will have learned to love themselves will have better balanced relations). To break this bad habit and wrong self perception, one must simply love oneself more, find a balance between the feelings, the love given, sort out the persons one can trust and think about oneself first; remember your body initiating the emotions only wants you good but one has to break the old and no longer right habits, everyone has this choice to live, a faillure, a reject, won't kill you (well in the majority of the cases), we are strong, nature is strong, give yourself the love you deserve, be yourself, and you'll receive in the most honest way the love every humans need from other humans, this is the most sincere way.

My story as example :

My mom was my shield (in my mind as a child) protecting me against my dreadful dad, i believed, in my childhood, that i needed her or my dad will hurt me, my body developped the feeling that without a person as security i would be dead, now i envision the worst in many situations, i can't stand any rejects, and my senses are so sharp i notice everything and everything bother me, every little doubt about me, i can detect it in someone, and then i dramatize my loss if someone rejects me, it became a life or death matter for me. For some built that way they believe that what they are is in people judgements.
I know the theory, i'm aware of how i want to behave, i know myself, my needs and the good use to do with it but my body keept the old habits and still provokes intense emotions, warning me of a danger no longer existing, i know with my reasoning that i'm perfectly safe, my body reaction probably helped me in the time i was really threatened in a harmful environment, but now this process is no longer valid, i know it but my body reacts on habits.

Ride the music

See what i am with that bass that tears down my arms, i'm not a virtuoso, i press timidly the fat strings, guessing the notes, the rythm like a tide reaches me, a staccato anchored and my curved body begins to swell, until my fingers hurt;
I'm not a musical scholar, i don't keep no technical words about instruments and electronic devices i use, i don't even know how to balance the sound of mine, i feel every tones and for me they are all worthy to be;
When i play i love my part gritty, catching the air around into a swirl of chaotic energy, i'm playing the cosmic egg, if only i could rebuild the world with one rock song;
I'm not a poser, i don't play to be watched, there's no attitudes i snatch to raise a pitiful ego through the eyes of a bystander, i'm reversed in myself, i play in my own mind, selfishly, the pleasure is for me only, i bestow not even one cell to act for someone else, i'm not anything because music is not a business for me, it's my passion, it instils me life when it catches me in the curls, here i nest and at one point my senses shut, i'm not a prisoner anymore, easily swaying, i'm sitting on a gust of wind, the music is in me, no one will ever steal me that breath, watch me and find for yourself the stream leading to the best of all pleasure, feel free;
I'm nothing more than this awkward boy when i play... but hell knows i love the music i hear, with a bass or a guitar tearing down my arms.

I invite you.

In this dance.


And i thank Satan for the inspiration. (ah ah running joke around here)

Chronic eeriness

What a strange day!, i think!, watching in the black of my coffee, it's 17h18, i'm eating jam and chocolate on slices of bread, with a second cup of coffee, for more than 5 years now i skipped the breakfast, and today i'm taking one... in the middle of the day; i'm anxious, today is a strange day, the threatening clouds are low, weighting on us, i feel the boil like if i am in a cauldron, i think i waste so much energy in my anxiety that i needed to snack so late, or i will faint in the bus i have to take a while later, tonight i'll be out socializing, but alone, i feel so helpless...

I have oportunities to live one of my dreams, but i'm stuck in my personality, i'm getting more and more antisocial, crossing the path of other human beings could soon become unbearable.

And now i feel gross...

"Amazingness"

The pages flip as i click randomly, fumbling on the net with no purpose, nowadays everyone has a personal space on line, people are dithyrambic about their interests, mainly about the celebrities they worship, saying things as lame as, "she (or he) is the greatest, the nicest, the cutest, The INCREDIBLest" well let me add "The DULLEST" and this kind of depictions are galore, all with the same shallowness, deprived of arguments, mess of over simplistic and meaningless words; at this point one can think i'm full of prejudice and harshly unfair, i could have this doubt too.. if i haven't checked another frame on their presentation page, and this one is blank each time, it says : "write a description of yourself"... i'm stunned... a recurring phrase i read is : "Wow, it's too complicated to write about oneself", it comes clear that a majority of people don't even know themselves. ok so i say it again for who has still a doubt, people's imagination and knowledge are as blank as their description frame! and yeah i don't care for them.

(the whole superlative part is a mockery, you would have guessed)