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?

The Room we live in.

“We believe if you let go of your need to find somebody, the universe will present you something wonderful in due time.”

“You can’t keep looking for it, it will come to you…”

“You are not alone, you have us!”

—-

There is a room, which appears to be perfectly whole at first glance. A room with four walls, a window and some furniture. There is sunlight entering the room through the window, lighting up the floor.

The closer you look you begin to notice that the room might not be as perfectly fine as it appeared to be initially. You might realize that the walls are cracking and faded in places, the wallpaper coming loose, floors creak and might even collapse if there is too much weight to bear, the chair has a broken leg, but is fixed together with a nail or two, the window is withered and yet painted to cover its scars, the sunlight illuminates the best features of the room so that anyone lookin in may not notice the damages present. A passer by will peep in, and think to themselves, ‘oh what a quaint space this is.’

They will judge my room, depending on what their own rooms look like. They will only see what they are used to seeing themselves. They will not notice my cracks if they don’t have cracks in their own walls. Everybody feels and thinks differently so who are they to judge me in my struggle?

It is easy for all of them to say, they have forgotten what it felt like to sleep in an empty bed every single night. They don’t fall asleep clutching as many pillows as possible, hoping to find some form of imagined comfort. The have forgotten the empty feeling inside, the cold hard dread, the barren wasteland devoid of emotion, a desert starving of human connection. The walls ready to crumble, the floors ready to collapse, the chair waiting to tumble, all into the depths of the emptiness beyond.

The emptiness that I sometimes find myself relishing greatly. I find myself feeling content in the calmness of my own mind, the steady stream of broken thoughts and questionable mood swings, the ideas swimming around the very concept of being alive and the meaning of life.

But what is the meaning of our inconsequential existence? It is purely to love, as many beings as we can, in all love’s forms and shapes. The only solution as I see it is to fill the emptiness that cannot really be filled with anything but love. I am not ashamed of my desire to connect with someone. When there is love to give, there should be someone to receive it too.

 

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?