I think one of the best parts about having these few weeks overseas, has to do with the privilege of being alone with my thoughts. When I’m home, I’m downtown and I always up and doing something. It’s a wonderful distraction when necessary, but at times it can be suffocating.
It was May and I was tired of being brave, and next thing you know it was June and I wasn’t being fair. One of the things that a lot of people can’t help, is the image they create in their minds, for any scenario really. We become artists in that sense, we paint this canvas and then are shocked when someone turns a blank canvas towards us.
It’s needs and wants, and romancing the notion of being “fixed” by our other half, when in reality we were never broken, and we may have lost pieces of ourselves in other people, but we’re wholes.
We glamourize the idea of being someone’s Courtney Love because that kind of I’ve is the purest form of rock and roll. The whole charade, the song that gets named after you, and performed until it becomes that spoonful of cough syrup you’d dread when you were younger.
And my mother taught me that what we want is not always what we need. We all want a lot of things, and we want someone to idealize as their purest form of rock and roll, and romanticize the ideology that we may not always getting the affection we deserve. It’s the purest form of heartbreak.
Turning those who call only at 3am into Rock Gods.
Until your friends call you saying they’re scared to jump, and you almost feel bad that you’re on the other side of the world sleeping when they’re up sitting on their kitchen floor, terrified of an unreciprocated affection. Until 3am rolls around, and they’re reassured that nothing compares to them.
So this is where I agree with the man whom devised the 3 words perma-doodled on my left arm (Kurt Vonnegut) (Not some random man on Queen Street with a beard,) that we should not let the world make us hard, but be soft and gentle. (But also kick ass when necessary) Don’t apologize because you gave someone your heart, and they didn’t know what to do with it.
But make sure they gave it back, because it’s always been yours in the first place.
One more week in Paradise,
“Someone told me to stop singing Wonderwall, I said maybe” – Ancient Proverb