The Blue Fairy is not coming.

What is the rational amount of time and energy a person should spend in the pursuit of someone who may or may not be interested in return?

Wherever you go, you carry around a little effigy in your pocket, it sometimes sits on your shoulder, sometimes peeks out the front of your jacket pocket, sits beside you while you sip your coffee and pour hollandaise on your eggs. It sits on your table, and on those mornings where your heart has sunk to your stomach, where you are left alone with the expanding feeling of quiet loneliness, you stare at it sitting there and you face the reality that this figurine is not and never will be real. It is but a clump of cloth and wool and drumsticks in the shape of ‘somebody’, to which you have attached all the little trinkets and charms you have collected along the way; memories and moments over time, sewn, glued and pinned in the hope your little soft doll, would be visited by the Blue Fairy one moonlit night and turn it into a real person.

You know that fairy tales don’t come true, not in this reality, and yet you continue to nurse and keep this puppet close to your heart because it has become your lifeline; your float that keeps you from drowning in the thunderous ocean that is heartache. Yet you hold on, you nurture the idea of the ‘somebody’ transitioning from beyond the veil, where you can’t touch them, flirting in and out of sight to finally stepping through the curtain into your reality.

However, no matter how hard the candle of hope burns you cannot turn a blind eye to the true fact that your doll is nothing more than a statue. It had no feelings to return, no glint in its eye that expressed emotions, no words to respond with to your proclamations of grand future plans. It stared on back at you, ever present, yet ungiving.

Beep. Beep. The texts were all that you received from beyond the veil, casual friendly messages in response to your prying inquisitions. You wondered whether you should break the line, but you didn’t want to drown either. Friendship was better than having no ship to be tethered to, in this ocean you feared so intensely, you thought. He was real, yet he lived in another reality, which despite your attempts to reach his dimension, was not possible. Yet, you hoped, and continued with each passing day to keep the candle burning so he may find his way through with the Blue Fairy’s help, from wherever his world was to yours. So you may one day wake up not next to a doll but to the ‘somebody’ with his arms around you and his long hair all tangled up in your own, to say a real good morning in return.

But, how much longer should you continue to keep your secret made up figure of cotton and wool and one-dimensional emotions, before something or nothing ever happens?

 

A Tale of two Brothers.

How ethical is it to be, in whichever level form that romance can exist, whether it be a physical attraction, an emotional connection, a lustful desire, playful banter, hopeful desperation, soulful comfort, a friendly affection or a deep love; how ethical is it to be, in any form of love with two brothers at the same time?

They each represented different things, to you.

One, who paralyzed you from within just by being present in the same room. One, who you craved to be closer to, to stare into his eyes and feel the world go silent around you, floating in a vacuum of space-time, just the two of you alone in the entire world. One, who haunted your dreams and the edges of your sanity, flirting with your mind in imagined conversations, sending you spiraling into the borders of hysteria over manic excitement of his being. Yet never being able to find the courage to speak to him in the moments he was around you, save some stolen words from an alternate reality. One, who you wanted to feel against your skin, whose past and present you desperately wanted intertwined with your own, and yet so unattainable that it made your insides ache to think of him. One, who you feared could break you into a million pieces if he ever knew how intensely you wanted his arms around you. One, who could probably not ever be with you because he was already with someone else.

Two, who was a distant friend of years, though never too close until suddenly, you find yourself having late night conversations, flirting in the realness of now and enjoying the attention. A warm, strong and sensitive man, slowly yet surely playing on your need for comfort and security. Two, who promised to cook you dinner, and rub your shoulders when you became a little too tense. Two, who expressed his desire to get closer, for intimacy. Two, who you trusted, and considered who wanted you for more than just sex, who you thought could be more than just a sexual fling, who you felt might have been more than just a friend, two, with whom you subconsciously thought you could spend nights in bed with, spend days cooking with, and weeks and months falling with. Two, who might possibly have been something or everything, turned out to be nothing in the circumstances that unfolded, on a spontaneous night two awkward lovers went separate ways.

And now, you, stuck between the pain of forbidden desire and the pang of regretful longing, stood still thinking about what could be and what could have been. In a swirling vortex of confusion and strange surrealism, you stand dissociated from them both, nursing a quiet flame under each of their names, a quiet shame that should always be kept secret; for though neither flame will ever catch fire and set ablaze the entirety of your existence, though in their own ways each flame was of special significance, it is clear that it’s not ethical to be in love with two brothers at the same time…

Uploading Attachments

NETWORK CONNECTION ERROR.

The server is not responding. Uploads have failed to attach. System failure, malfunction alert, operating system crashing…

REBOOT.

. . .

Restarting your machine may take longer than expected, after all yours is a complex sentient machine. You have to process the data loss and re-evaluate the update.

You may not have realized at the time you began your connection that it was something you wanted to be a lasting feeling. You thought then, that it was just a mutual ‘coalition’ with an air of breezy romance coupled with flirtatious passing comments. Nonetheless, aura of new relationships never fails to excite you; though you may deep in your heart know that you do not have the patience to nurse this long and grueling process, so it may not even pass the initial stage of stolen glances, flurried touches, and butterflies tingling in your stomach, you still find yourself utterly disappointed when you realize the attachment you had been trying to upload has failed.

You find yourself questioning whether you acted too fast, if you made your move too soon? You obsess in spiraling roundabouts of confusion whether it was your inability to wait, to delay the inevitable climactic encounter that would ultimately impact, either with smiles or with sadness, the course of the continuation of your relationship. You look behind you at the road taken, and you are certain that it was not just your own conviction, but rather a reciprocated eagerness to partake in the kairos. So how could it be your fault that the server was not responding. Clearly there had been some kind of unforeseen malfunction, an underlying unmentioned dormant virus, laying beneath the surface waiting for the opportune moment to make itself shown, crashing the server completely.

The virus now had complete hold of the server, there was no way through its firewalls so high that you could not find a way to reach in and reconnect. No matter how you tried, the virus just kept sending in advanced defense mechanisms, the walls got higher, thicker and more and more distant until all connection to the server flatlined.

Your attachments, now fell crashing down. The crash caused more damage to the operating system than expected. You stand there at the foot of its pile of broken feelings, watching the integrity of the system failing around you, pieces falling out of the very floor you stand on, the sky slowly blacking out pixel by pixel, rejection and regret filling in those empty black squares one after another until you are wholly consumed by its sticky dark glue of self-depreciation.

You also understand that though you may have entered into this chaotic simulation with mild intention, a subconscious urge for a fulfilling human connection, had found some eager feeling ready to formulate themselves into a solid program, and you may have developed a sense of blind hope in a glimpse of a possible future. Yet now, while you struggle in the solitary confinement of your own mind, you stare at your demons in the eye facing the dark shadow of what might have been. They ask you why you are just SO unlucky in love? What is it about you that makes you crave a deep affection so profoundly and yet despise the process of its creation so intensely? You wonder whether to blame only yourself in the mistakes of your past relationships, or were your choices mere reflections of an effect after a cause out of the world around you.

Your next step is to upgrade your system, with a stronger antivirus protection, and solid core stability. This update may take months or maybe years to fully complete. Yet you must decide whether updating to an abstinence program would benefit the system’s capacity for forming real personal connections in the future? and would it be worth it in the end?

Kismet?

We walk, we wander through the streets of a busy market intersection, hundreds of people around us, each oblivious to each other. We live two completely separate lives, for now… But through the crowd, the throng of people pushing and shoving, shouting their way to the fishmongers and shoe-salesmen, we bump into each other. In this chaotic jumble of faces and voices, we stop and feel something. It could be something as simple as a touch, with our eyes, for even that touch is felt right deep within our souls, if you let it…

The noise in the streets is drowning, the colours and shapes fleeting and inconsistent, blurry figures roam around us in misshapen forms as they roam around leaving trails of their purpose behind. Some weave their paths towards certain intention, and the others leave behind hints of forgotten commitment. We stand in there, somewhere between the two, somehow, we might possibly stray paths and kismet.

You are but an ideal to the imaginary void i need to fill. A solid reality to the fantasy that I have created within my mind, the perfect stranger to meet the mystery that is me. You may be the one person yet unknowing, of any past, previous, prior history of mine. A refreshing breath of fresh air to inhale. A new surface to explore, to discover how one touch might spark tingles down my spine, one kiss could make my knees weak, or even just a glance in my direction might make my heart race a thousand times faster. It could be kismet that our eyes meet across the street and I soak up your soul like dry earth on a rainy day.

I don’t know who you are, yet. But you seem familiar to me somehow, the thought of who we may be together brings a smile to my face and a warmth to my cheeks. I see you across the street and my impulse, my urge is to run to your arms, with the faintest hope that you will catch me. I seek your gaze, looking over the river of people cascading between us, standing on my tiptoes making every effort to not drown. I swim across, stroke after stroke, against the current reaching ever so slowly.

I don’t know who you are, yet. You may be someone looking elsewhere, trying to catch someone else’s eye in the crowd. You may be holding the hand of another woman, happily. You may be moving in with her, you may be marrying her. And all the fantastical possibilities of who we could be or could have been are getting washed away in this river of people, leaving me stranded on a lonely rock in its middle. I stand there, still awaiting a moment when the throb of the flow lets up, to cross that river and face you. You may still be there on the other side, and we finally say hello. Or you could be another face from the crowd of wandering eyes awaiting to catch a glancing pair to meet.

I don’t know who you are yet, but I am waiting to know you…

 

‘I can’t fix your broken heart’

“I can’t fix your broken heart…” he said, as he ungripped himself from my embrace. Shifting his arm from beneath mine and unlocking his legs entangled in my own, he got up from the bed. As I lay there, clutching the sheets closer to fill up the void he left behind. It was not his fault, I knew. Nobody could fix my broken heart, and he was not the one that broke it in the first place; but I had broken his, years ago.

So maybe the pain I felt now, as I lay huddled in the blankets, pretending to be sleeping, was what I deserved for the mistakes I made in the past. The feeling of being abandoned at the bottom of a deep well, wet and cold all around and the walls so close on every side…You look up and the light is only a small disc in the distance, fading in the dusk. Holding in my tears, allowing the light to completely disappear. Was what I wanted just a stolen moment to feel that deep sense of comfort in the arms of someone familiar, in the wake of the rejection I had faced only a few days ago? Or was it that I was feeling regret in ever letting go in the first place, and I wanted reassurance of the idea that I still exist for you too?

Maybe it was a little bit of both. It was strange business, to be close friends with your ex. Whose newfound happiness in finding himself a new person, who excites him, makes him smile and feel good about life with; makes you so bitter and cynical. I was feeling raw, exposed, vulnerable already. Sore hearted, heavy hearted, after knowing that someone I cared for, did not have the capacity to care for me in the same way. I found myself asking him personal questions, inquisitive, to mask my own sorrow.

“I have never felt happier in my life, with anybody else” he said.

The only words that rung in my ears that night, through a haze of drunkenness, we had talked, argued and I had flung my emotions out, yet they had not dried. Am I resentful that you are happy? Happier than you had been with me? Or was I offended that you had not considered my feelings when you raucously exclaimed of your current exuberant state of existence?… Either way, the words stayed with me, along with a sharp clinging painful fishhook in my heart, a memory of how it felt to lie with you, to feel that closeness again for a moment in time. Just a reminder, that I needed something, or someone, I did not know. Was it your embrace that I crave, or just the idea of your comfort? Am I bitter because I am jealous? Or is it because I do not know whether I could be happy?

I fall in love with people whom I know will not return it, ever indulging the cycle of heartbreak, like a necessary drug. And having pushed you away years before, the only one who deserved the love I should have given, I lie in a pool of self pity and stew in regret, wondering whether it was always a mistake to have let you go…

I hover like a dark cloud.

 

The Fear of Love

There is a fear; a dark, cold, haunting shadow of a being that walks one step behind your every move. It hovers over your shoulder, ever present. It hides, just out of sight, yet always there lurking behind you, waiting for a moment to make its presence known. So that it can come creeping up close to you, with its ice cold, clammy fingers reaching up around your neck, whispering things into your ear. Things that make your throat close up, your heart feel heavy in your chest, your lungs fill up with harsh cold air, and you can feel your heart struggling to beat suspended in a chasm that is your breast.

Once this Fear takes hold of you, it merges itself onto your body. It thrives off of your loneliness and feeds irrational thoughts into your brain. The fear of being unworthy, of loss and heartbreak, of isolation and most of the fear of pain.

For years you’ve cowered away from letting anyone get close to you, because of your fear of the pain from your past. Despite so desperately wanting to love, and be loved in return, are you really able to allow yourself to open up to another person and accept their love as an entirety? Are you capable of letting go of the shadow of doubt and dismay of your past, and be able to count experiences with new and different people as wholly new, with no connection to the pain that you have felt before. Or will that fear, of what happened before may happen again stop you from ever making yourself vulnerable? That the past will repeat itself, scare you away from having any sort of functional relationship in the future?

The fear of betrayal, an oozing scar that never fully heals, of never being good enough for the person who you craved affection from, of ideas that were fed into your mind that you were intolerable, unattractive, loud and ungraceful; made you believe that everyone saw you in this way, even you yourself was convinced of it. Since then you never truly believed when anyone said you were beautiful or enjoyable. Fear infects your subconscious, to thinking its all a lie. You distress through it, pushing these people away, because you feel like you are not deserving of the love and affections of such a person, and conceiving that if you do make yourself vulnerable, they would just stab you in the heart with a jagged shard of your broken trust, and leave you lying in a pool deception. You are constantly unsatisfied, steadily disconnected and wholly empty of the happiness that you dream of. Yet constantly paranoid of caring for anyone, lest they are all mask wearing actors, on the stage that is the tragedy of your life.

Then you tell yourself that maybe it is easier to not love, to only feel anything two inches deep; because people will always disappoint you, eventually they will all hurt you in some way. Is it easier then to not care about anybody else at all? To go on living while barely feeling anything for anyone, is it safer to lock up your heart in a metal box and hide away the key? To make sure that you will never feel pain again, yet you will also never feel love… Why is it so difficult to love, again?