Dans mes rêves...

In words I cannot express, such is this frustration. You came to me - oh, just what I'd long longed for - but I desire you not. Not since the dream, that which sent chills down my spine and I shivered, I shivered like in years I have not. Could it have been the truth? It's left me wondering... a philosophy. I wonder, could it be? They struggle, so do I, we all struggle daily but they know not of my struggles. And I make grand plans, schemes that come crashing at my feet. Fall, then rise, and one by one, I piece it all together. And it fits - it all fits - except the last piece which I've lost perhaps never to find. And I eyed him enviously, his cool collected composed demeanour and I understood. I understood that all are not created equal and then began the monologue that lasted the night and brought him down and he hasn't contacted me. Is it because I can't speak Arabic? I tried to learn, for reasons I haven't confessed - yet. But I guess I failed. I suppose I can invoke the "Arabic is one of the hardest languages in the world" statement and it all becomes good. Yet I feel no better. And I haven't given up. Then why do I have a resigned tone in a blog entry that was supposed to be optimistic. But I haven't given up, I say again. And in September we shall meet once more. And the Europeans descended - not from the Heavens - but from somewhere in the atmosphere and they sang, they belted out tunes. The wall, it broke. What did I think? No really, what was on my mind? C'était oublié! What of the naked men? I'm afraid that I can't get that image out of my mind... the long ugly penii just hanging there. This isn't me, I repeatedly told myself yet there I was stealing glances, hiding behind pillars, much to his frustration. What was happening to me? I decided to confess this to him. A sense of urgency had returned. I shivered. He left my side. I cursed him and everyone I knew and vowed never to trust again. But I did and I will. And he who had gifted me with smiles - oh what a rarity - he attacked me again and I recoiled, surprised. Then I scowled at him and decided to add one more item to that list. After all, that's not the piece I've lost for good.

Retraction

History does repeat itself, the same old patterns.

In some ways, it's a retraction to the past. In every way, it's a retraction to myself. I feel like I'm in control again. Pretty much everything going on these days has left me quite frustrated and discontent. But you know, last week I was sad and the week before, even depressed. Now I'm hopeful.

I'll admit that I don't care much for suburbia. I'd rather live in a busy city or a quaint little village where you can walk everywhere. Not this: an 80km trek in each direction every day. If this week weren't the last week I have to do this, I would've surely died.

And although I'm sure to want to kill myself before the week is over - you see, he will be back tomorrow badmouthing me in Mandarin right in my face and breathing down my neck to try and get me to accomplish the impossible - Friday's only 3 days away and I can't help but smile at the burst of energy I feel lately, all grâce à... well, you... whom I, in my haste, had discarded, a diamond.