I got 6% of battery life to finish this. Soon the 5% low battery warning will show. I have the charger here but I don't want to attach this. The music playing in my earphones is loud. It feels like...
Five, four, three, two, dead. That's how I feel. And you know I don't actually fear anything now but hell. I am never going there. But everything else am not afraid of. The song playing in my ears is sad but it's fast paced that's kind of how my life is, ironic.
There love is not unconditional, they want to leave cause I have slowed down on everything that made this this. The condoms, the splashes, the asses, the models and three sums. I have been there, done that. I know the drill. I know how it feels to be left. But this time I know it will be a whole fresh level of pain.
I had a girl once, you stayed with me cause it was simply a perfect rush. The harder I fell, the more in love she became. The more it turned her on.
I stopped at her gate to pick her up. One day, the car was mashed, I got an accident at the worst place, a petrol station. I got it from my arrogance and I could see her eyes sparkle every time I fucked up. See her walking out of her house with a bottle of wine in her hand and her dress. Watching me in a mashed car, she actually lifted up her skirt for me. As she screamed.
"oh, my, what happened this time???"
And I could see that smile. It was sincere, it was beautiful. I could get into whatever amount of car accidents to have that smile. To have her smile at me like that.
She was with me, she loved me, but she seemed to hope that one day I will confess to having a kid somewhere around, or a number of them. I didn't go that far to please her. But I went quite far.
I skipped exams, I drove to the speedometers ends, I got into car races, I pretended I didn't have a break pedal, when I made a turn, the coffee poured off the car cup, don't wipe I will have it cleaned honey, we were all pushed to the edge of the car, she loved that; they scared me, but anything to fit into the character everyone wants for me but me. I loved it then but. Classic story, boy went to good schools, boy got spoon fed, boy couldn't coupe with high school, boy got suspended, boy gives family bad name. All the shit that makes her wet. But boy still gets everything success is somehow. Classic attraction.
I remember once we were almost banned from a hotel. Who gets a suspension letter from a hotel? Who does that? Inappropriateness, why? Cause we run the place? No? Fuck it.
I can't keep up being that wild, i don't know how she will react when I stop destroying myself to find her approval. She wants to hear about a triangle of girls around me, three sides to the twist, not a circle.
She wants to hear that I lived a party, waking up fucked, with people I don't know, with models. She loved the parties, the pent house once. The ones where the management asked room service to tell us to keep noise down. They also loved how we partied, that's why they let us. The pool is usually banned at night. But how do you stop college chics jumping into the pool without swimming costumes? Borrowing boxers from the guys to swim? They let us swim at night, eat in the pool. She loved the parties. I loved that she loved them. I loved them cause they made women crowd around me, and that made her want me more. So she allowed it. Then cried after. Made me promise her that I was with her, in spite of, she made me promise as we did it. She even cried sometimes. A joyful one.
"I am yours."
"I am yours."
"you are mine."
We shook. I poured. She clenched. It was champagne, and her water fall. Then we slept like nothing happened. She loved those. She took photos even though at such parties we don't allow camera phones. I guess sometime in the future they will show up somewhere, that's why when am done using a phone I destroy. Delete is an illusion in tech world. Explicit photos are like cigarettes, it never just leaves the phone that took it.
She loves it when my name is dragged in mud, she loves to see me fall, it's classic wonderful story, it excites her. But I liked her, she is classic beauty, she is kind, she is a darling, but I know it's time to say goodbye.
She doesn't yet know it, but she will leave. When the parties become more private, with the number of people on the bed reducing, with more clarity, with words like responsibility coming along she will leave.
And maybe everyone else that is her friend will leave. But I will accept this, I will accept it like death. I don't want her to leave, I love the way she looks at me, with such admiration for my screw ups, my suck ups. I can tell she genuinely wants to save me, but I don't think she wants me actually saved. Have you ever meet a woman who wants to save you? Then its a success. For how long will she be able to stick around before she finds another man to save? Will she stick around after you are done with you reckless?
I don't know whether the gradual change that happens on me she will handle, I might come off as boring. I already feel dead her leaving me, I already feel dead leaving the life I knew slowly. And I don't see the point of leaving sometimes. Three sums and all. Do people really change? You know about questions such as that you hear but you never think it will apply to you. Questions like what you would do if you were car jacked, you disregard it like it will never happen to you? And one day it just happens, your legs literally melt and you half faint, you legs let you fall half way, but you rise up cause you got to survive.
"...you love me don't you?"
We stop on the road some place between two towns, a random trip, the ones she loves.
"we park a little further from the road I show you something..."
"what?"
"a thank you for a lovely weekend."
You are going to leave me, I know you don't know it yet, I wish you wouldn't. But at the end of the day, I can't possibly carry myself the way I did, I have found a greater path, it might not thrill her as much. But it keeps me alive. And I need to feel like that now that I feel like am dying.
I know the next chapter has something else, guns, knives, passion, risks so it might thrill. But again it might not. But am leaving, cause at the end of the day she only care about herself, she only cares about seeing me fail, to entertain her. The appeal of the screw up that never fails cause he was born right.
Am leaving! Maybe not today, cause Rome wasn't built in a day, I am leaving, I feel it, I truly hope it's better where I go. It should be full of adventure, it has guns, criminals and justice. Words that might not turn her on. I know lawyers have a certain appeal, I don't want that appeal, I have a weak heart, it doesn't beat for me as much as it beats for another. My heart beat can die if I don't let it beat for another's plight.
To me, it will not be so much about nice suits and tie pins. To me it will be about, this is a person who was robbed made to kneel done before his family, with hooligans stealing all his got. And leaving. But they got caught, they are in court. And if I don't stand for such a father, if I don't make sure the men that kill and destroy aren't looked up behind bars. Why the fuck am I turning this law books, I can't fail. I can't? How do you fail a man, a mother, a person that comes to your office and gives you such a tale? And asks you to make sure the animals that did that to them are looked up? My heart has always beat for another more than it has beat for me. That's how I know am on the right path.
Who will I meet there? I don't know? Who will move with me? I don't know. Will I find love there like I found here? I don't know. But am brave, am leaving.
If where I go doesn't turn her on, it will scare her to pee. Which is not as bad as silence. Silence is death. And where I go I might die too... It's a possibility. The risk of doing my work right.
I might never find a place of love such as this, I might never succeed. But I will not leave like this, not now, not today. I must be brave. I must strive for something greater than the pleasures of two skirts on the floor at the same time. Now, now my dears, don't lose heart. There is always one bra on the floor.
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