What is a beautiful tragedy? I mean tragedy, in the most tragic of ways--- Not in the Shakespearian humor way. Although, I suppose one could consider this beautiful tragedy a humor. Eh, who knows?
Anyway, I met this mysterious man, clad in ACU's, the dust and blood of war on his boots and a hazy fog of memories he would wish to forget for the rest of his life. He was, in essence, my perfect my match-- A by-product of suburban life and much to hard work that is war as an Infantry man. In him, I saw me. In him, I saw myself settling down, creating a home and, yes, even quite possibly a family (even though the thought of children had always irked me to no end). Our souls clung to each other, if but only for a moment in time.
The only problem with deep love is that the line between deep love and deep hate is all to close. How does the old saying go, "We hurt those closest to ourselves the most." Best friends, lovers, family-- Companions in a road that would be all to bumpy and hectic. In a way, I will forever cling to the essence of his memory-- Like the smell of fresh brewed coffee first thing in the morning, waking up to that aroma only to drink to much and end up jittery.
Anyway, I won't particularly bore you with details for there are all to many. And I am sure they will seep through my post little by little.
I should be logged into phonesex already, but its' been a week where the thought of talking to these needy, emotional bastards kills me. You know what worries me honestly? The fact that I can create such a powerful allusion of who and what I am, that so many men are instantly drawn to me -- Emotionally, Physically. They feel obligated to me-- They fall in love with "me." How is it that I so easily craft this divine goddess for each and every voice over the phone, often times causing a sick addiction for them. Causing them to want me, desire me....even need me, even more so than their own wives, girlfriends and/or family. I don't even feel that I have to try most days-- It just flows from the silky seduction of my voice. Perfectly saying whatever it is they want to hear-- Painting the image of perfection and desire in their minds eye. The funny part is, I am not what they think. Everything I create for them is a false.
Anyway, enough for now-- I must finish my kona coffee and fight off the lingerings of a wine headache.
Anyway, I met this mysterious man, clad in ACU's, the dust and blood of war on his boots and a hazy fog of memories he would wish to forget for the rest of his life. He was, in essence, my perfect my match-- A by-product of suburban life and much to hard work that is war as an Infantry man. In him, I saw me. In him, I saw myself settling down, creating a home and, yes, even quite possibly a family (even though the thought of children had always irked me to no end). Our souls clung to each other, if but only for a moment in time.
The only problem with deep love is that the line between deep love and deep hate is all to close. How does the old saying go, "We hurt those closest to ourselves the most." Best friends, lovers, family-- Companions in a road that would be all to bumpy and hectic. In a way, I will forever cling to the essence of his memory-- Like the smell of fresh brewed coffee first thing in the morning, waking up to that aroma only to drink to much and end up jittery.
Anyway, I won't particularly bore you with details for there are all to many. And I am sure they will seep through my post little by little.
I should be logged into phonesex already, but its' been a week where the thought of talking to these needy, emotional bastards kills me. You know what worries me honestly? The fact that I can create such a powerful allusion of who and what I am, that so many men are instantly drawn to me -- Emotionally, Physically. They feel obligated to me-- They fall in love with "me." How is it that I so easily craft this divine goddess for each and every voice over the phone, often times causing a sick addiction for them. Causing them to want me, desire me....even need me, even more so than their own wives, girlfriends and/or family. I don't even feel that I have to try most days-- It just flows from the silky seduction of my voice. Perfectly saying whatever it is they want to hear-- Painting the image of perfection and desire in their minds eye. The funny part is, I am not what they think. Everything I create for them is a false.
Anyway, enough for now-- I must finish my kona coffee and fight off the lingerings of a wine headache.
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