lilac wine
Since you, I’ve hurt a lot of women. I don’t do it purposefully, at all; it’s sort of a tool to try and forget you. However, I’ve realized that this seemingly steel wrench is dull. Such a tool is a tawdry, weak, temporary fix. WIth time, it grows rusted, ugly, and almost infectious. I hurt them because I use them. Sadly, you taught me the art of reeling someone in with body language and semantics. Every time I utter the words “i really like you,” I personify you; when I say “this could be a good thing,” “I can’t picture my future without you,” or “you’re so much more than just a friend,” I reflect you.
You provided me with the strong tools to become a conquistador. The Cortez in me now uses my weaker counterpart to get the gold. My words become artillery, iron, horses; these women, they become natives… and I colonize. It’s shitty, I know. But hey, I’ve become a hero. When scanned and briefly thought of, I’m a “pro”. My post-you history is one that sleezy men love. My post-you is one that I truly disgust. Why do I do it? Because it’s the only thing that will let me forget about you briefly. In those couple of hours— between the flirtatious gazes and phrases, the alcohol, and the finally, the sex— you’re gone. Ultimately, an eternal forgetfulness of you is what I’m seeking…
Maybe if I keep doing this —I mean, keep being you— I’ll forget about “us” (again, if that’s what we ever were). Apropos to our metaphor, my philosophy extends itself as a form of religion. I fully commit myself to the hope that there’s an ultimate goal to this. There’s more than forgetting about you. In the process people will get hurt, some will be slain and others converted, but it’s all with a positive end right? I mean, my eternal bliss, my heaven, is to forget about you completely. Could it be possible to forever be in a state of you-oblivion, of nirvana. The Spanish tried and failed but still managed to have success. Maybe eternal forgetfullness isn’t the goal, just as total world-domination was not the goal. Maybe I’ll temporarily forget in the same way that Latin-America became a brief Catholic continent. Whatever helps.
Fuck this. going to bed.
