Pillow-talking to myself: Karma is a bitch. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love her.

What is love? What is lust? What is lustful love, love of lust, and lust for love?

I never lusted like I did for someone I never went after. Knowing very well I could, and turn it into something so passionate, but something that also would be completely void of any form of fidelity. So it was never an option.

I never lusted for the love of someone, like of the one and only person I ever went after the way I did. I never believed in the concept of marriage. The idea of having to have the blessing of a priest, a contract and the government’s permission to prove I love someone, was just a thought too ridiculous to take seriously. This one person, though… Occupied my head and had me imagining and seeing her face with the most intense intensity possible, thinking, praying, wishing, I dont know the right word for it; but the words “marry me!” kept looping in my head as the soundtrack to her face.

I never had a love for lust, but I never lusted for love like I did after this person came in, and vanished. Karma is a bitch. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love her.

I’d love that bitch to the edge of the universe, spawn her a new one, and give her the space they both exist in. Give that bitch some space, bitches love space.

I invaded that space, though. Being stupid in love makes you, well, quite stupid. Making the odds of getting rejected for being too stupid, quite present. Having the decency to properly reject someone you know is likely to walk around and keep dreaming, is, however, a minimum we can expect, no?

Apparently not.

The phenomenon of Ghosting is a total emotional massacre to experience. Especially when it’s someone who made you believe things so beautiful, that once you realise they’re gone, you want to reject the faith in those things completely.

Soulmates. Do we have one? I had three occasions where the words were uttered and expressed as if it was so. The first time I was 23 years old, quietly naked in her company between the sheets, and somehow managed to say “we’re soulmates, you know” – and somehow triggered a response I liked, but didn’t understand the gravity of, until almost ten years later, someone made me believe I was hers.

Karma is a bitch. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love her.

The third time was weeks after the second one said goodbye, where someone I met and befriended, was talking about how she longed to meet her soulmate. I already “knew” I had met mine, and I didn’t want to rub it in, so I just listened. This was a beautiful soul, scarred with experiences few have even imagined someone would have to endure. We spent a few months on the road together, and got along just fine. And even though she did somehow come off as interesting to some degree, the thought of the second one wouldn’t leave my mind. And the idea of cheating on someone I never even came close to more than a conversation with, somehow struck me as a thing. How’s that for pathetic?

Still, if you knew someone had thoughts like that about yourself, and you were not interested, would you reject them by saying it’s not happening? Or would you just disappear?

The latter is cruel if that faith was instilled purposefully. Ghosting people is mean, people!

Do an Alonzo Mourning and reject that ball out of the court. Don’t let it bounce around an eager, yet newbie, rookie point guard who wants nothing more than to slam dunk the living daylights out of it – unknown to whether he will ever even be passed the rock. It’s bad enough knowing you’re not likely to even get picked for the team, but when the entire team is slam dunking all over the court, and you don’t even get noticed by it; hearing that loud ass REEEEEJECTED! blazing out from the speakers, is somehow more satisfying than running around a court looking like a nerd turned jock without a game to play. Players gonna play, ballers gonna ball. Ballplayers gonna play ball, and the poor sod running around the court waiting to get a pass, is running around hoping to get rejected, rather than ignored.

Is it really that hard to say “nah, sorry, not interested” or even “fuck off, leave me alone”?

What is love? What is lust? What is lustful love, love of lust, and lust for love?
I dont know. But as I pillow-talk to myself, I want to pillow-fight this bitch. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love her, though. I’d love that bitch to the edge of space and around it. Through it, and beyond. Create more space and fill it with things you fill space with. Loving kindness and kind, loving, epic hits with a heavy pillow and say KNOCKOUT BIOOOTCH! …if I ever find someone to do that with.

Pillow-talking to yourself is a pillow-fight with memories that never were, that could have been. Karma is indeed a bitch. I do love her, though.

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