Rodney Bathe (mein) wrote,
Rodney Bathe
mein

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Brothelrot.

My realizations are insufferable because I realize along with them that I've realized them long ago. Nothing to offer or gain at this point, at any point, from point a to point c - but a lot of neurons hormones fixation and indigestion. 'on the way'. I'm not one to wake up and think or even hope my sweat is just an illusion, though. I drag myself into other people's messes because my own are too much to handle. This creates a rotten comfort in me, I can no longer feign a general interest in other lives - for it leads me on as much as it does them. With knots that are tied in resignation and bows to show a mitigating sign of advancement, or perhaps indeed regression, both seem to start running together- my hope withers as subtlely and thoroughly as my fear of losing it does/has. It's like anyone who dreams of permanence is just as hopeless as anyone who dreams of life. I can shed off too many illusions at once, but it's the convictions that I use as reins to storm through equal iconoclasts' castles and set ablaze every trophy, every dream in sight that do it all for destruction. Tricking rivals into thinking we are brethren, or perhaps vice versa, tricking patients into thinking we are equals. I can stand to feel at fault if I need to (though mea culpa doesn't always mean a harbinger of rectification- and never signifies reversal) but I refuse to taste anyone else's tears, shoulder anyone else's brunt for the sake of mitigation. I'll take whatever castigation I need. Continue to alienate and behave like it doesn't hurt me. It fucking stings. But I'm doing right in stepping out of my fear of losing affection and remembering what I am (not) here on this Earth for. I don't produce a multitude of attractions or distractions, just to delierately beguile those who seek to be led like dogs. Honestly. I don't do any of it deliberately. That would be one you would call a Romantic. I am not a Romantic, only a human, and that seems to cut you deeper than any razor ever could. Can't you understand that this life will only mean something to me if I do it alone? I'll break for hedonism once more, saying 'fuck you' to any attachment theory I leave unsettled. It's good to learn, but better to challenge than cower. Your ship sank long ago, I never had a ship to begin with. Maybe uprooting this, you, is the precursor to one. While that's sad to know, as your veneration for me did all to sink your own - just know that, be this of any consolation to you, which I know it will be - my storm is never-ending. And there's a god below who wants me. We could reunite. It'd be romantic. But that vein is dead. I think I'll say No this time. Keep my spine in front of my heart. This is what being human is. This is all it takes. Back and a half.
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