Fab, Mad and Bad Addie

Wannabe Poet, bogus Prophet, wobbly Blob of Fat, cynical Kindred Spirit, angry Angel, Irony in Juxtaposition. Oh, and I'm IT illiterate too.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Lost, And Not Yet Found

Hello La Fiamma,

We have been quiet, haven’t we? One can’t help but wonder…

Where did we go? Did I blink and miss something?

My over-analytical mind has come back to stay, because at moments when the issue is a baffling one, you take out your tools and start the elimination process.

My charred senses tell me I’ve just been burnt again. No matter how many times I tell myself “never again”… my stupid self-will collapses on me.

I’m a terrible judge of character, each time thinking it could be different. And I’m always wrong. Always.

At this point, only you can tell me if I’m wrong about you. “Judge me not by my words but my actions” you once told me.

Going by that, your words have been nothing but cold, distant and emotionless of late.
Actions? What actions? That I’ve been reduced to "enquiries desk" in the span of two weeks?

I have a high tolerance for funny characters, trust me. It’s a trait one picks up in advertising; to put on a smile and soldier on despite the worst insults and humiliation. In this scenario, I can understand that you need space just as I need mine. But it’s not logical to completely cut one off cold turkey. In the chaos of your life at the moment, I have been tolerant and waited on the sidelines for the dust to settle. I told you the truth, that I still cared for you and thought of you constantly.


Where did we go, la fiamma? Did you take my heart, with all its feelings for you – and just crumpled it like you would a scrap of useless paper, and trashed it along the highway somewhere? I’m missing something in my chest, it’s cold… I’m feeling lost.

Have you suddenly realized that I was right about me? That I am complicated and indeed, a challenge? That I’m not worth the trouble after all? Or was it the opposite, that since you’ve figured me out, you felt I was no longer exciting?

If you were “just a friend”, I wouldn’t bother, la fiamma. I could go on for years without so much as a pip. But is that what you want? To be put in that basket with the others? That’s not what we started out with, did we?

Maybe there’s a side of you that I don’t understand at all. And unlike you, I don’t make it a point to read too much into a person’s character. Unlike you, I don’t want to figure people out, because it’s all about accepting each other for who we are, warts and all.

Maybe you need to teach me. Maybe you need to tell me to calm down, not to be so stupid and melodramatic. Maybe I was right about me all along.

Whichever it may be, I believe it’s time I said something so that you know what I’m going through. A whole lot of turmoil in my head and heart. I’m moments away from slicing my heart and burning it so that it will feel its final pain and then be silenced and feelingless forever.


I was wielding a weapon around my heart when we first met, and you coaxed me to put it down. Now, weaponless and defenseless, I am suddenly left alone in this vast jungle, longing for the sanctuary of my dank, grey, cold, hard cave.


I’m looking for directions, and you’re holding the map.



A friend, an acquaintance, a passing fancy,
Me

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