Contemplating...

I need. Constantly I need. Mental provocation, beautiful pictures, interesting conversations, something to busy my hyperactive brain with. I need something to keep me occupied. Boredom is not an option with so many different interests and yet I am tired of being the only one to keep myself busy all the time. Someone else should do that too. Someone other than me, a third party.

Sometimes I see all those people in fancy clothes and wish I could go out. The thought makes me very excited. Yet, whenever I do go out, the excitement soon dies as there is no-one gutsy enough to approach me. And even if they do come, they are just normal people, full of phobias, insecurities, stuff they try to hide. They are pitifully plain inside, even if outside they hold some promise. Yes, beauty is a form of genius and desire the only god I'll ever allow to drag me around chained. Yes, I am arrogant and conceited. I am pride and wrath from the seven deadly sins. I will not judge people for being plain or boring, but at the same time won't touch them with a six foot pole. No-one gave me my knowledge for free, no-one made me mature by magic. I have won every single bit of knowledge and maturity that I possess with effort, disappointment and pain, so forgive me for being demanding as to whom I spend time with. I am not average. But there is a cost to all this. I am alone. I have friends, but when I lie in bed at night, there is no-one in those dark hours. No friend and no lover can kill this beast late at night. My loneliness feeds me and kills me at the same time.

I know it is all part of the maturing process. I know I have to be patient and not worry. I know all those things. It does not make it any easier. Knowledge not accompanied by facts offers little or no comfort. I feel that I cannot connect to people on any level anymore. I don't know why. Time passes and I get lost deeper into the world of archetypes. Problems my friends have move me little or not at all and I have to do what is expected from me while wondering inside why I feel indifferent if not impatient with them. I go half hardheartedly through the motions with them while I may burst to tears while reading an article or a book. Is it me holding back? Have I become incapable of befriending and feeling for others? I really don't know.

My beautiful dragon, do you sleep curled, like I do, licking your wounds and shame? Would you share your shame? Since love is out of the question, then perhaps we can lick each other's wounds.

Come.

An alien

... landing on my head would hardly make me raise my right eyebrow, let alone crack a smile.

Found a new way to deal with homophobic people and generally, the kind of know-it-all-Greek people I despise. At the first hint of an idiotic argument that I hear (i.e. for gay people, the characterisation "not normal") I dramatically raise both hands and exclaim curtly and loudly "end of conversation!" This wins me a few surprised glances. It is okay. They do not know it, but it also saves them from a blunt object landing on their moronic heads. I can understand that every person has the right to have a head full of shit and brainwashed /pre-constructed vomit instead of ideas, but sorry, I will not deal with this if I can avoid it. They can keep their opinions to themselves and I will do the same for mine. No 'conversation' (parade of racist, homophobic and simply infuriating 'arguments' that defy any definition of logic) will torture my ears and brain cells if I can just skip it. Not for any other reason, but my blood pressure reaches the heavens and my hands start shaking with the adrenaline I cannot use to flatten their faces and give them a new point of view in life. So yes, I will be a fascist.

Between dream and frustration.

You smile at me. I wonder if you will do anything more.

I also smile at you. But will do nothing more.

So many days of our lives pass because we expect something to happen-and it does not.

You look exotic.

Please do not make me wait for too long. I might just give up.

Some people are fueled by frustration. I need fear.

The other can wait. He is not here. You are here.

But are you, really, here?

Please give me a sign.

I need this.

My reality has been the limits of my skin for too long. No-one touches me.

I promise I will never let you know you are not the one.