The Fragility

And yes, I always know that he will never touch me when he doesn't need me. Somehow, I should have huge understanding to differentiate the way of needing or wanting.

When he needs me, he will turn on the pulse of yearning, that kind of intimacy craved by those who have been parted too long.

We will embrace each other with fervor.

We will be whirled into an entity.

We will get drunk into a lunacy of our own weaknesses.

When he needs me, he is hungry for the touches and kisses, the warmth and comfort, the rapid movement of each other creatures, the night spent to forget anything at once in a while.

We are not the whole. We once just try to be forgetful. We never try to blame feelings. We only make it unseen.

If there are moral values beneath the recklessness and fragility we've always shared, I guess it's best for us to have ability to feel and fall at the same time. Once we feel, then we fall.

And once we have tremendous sincerity towards our failures, we once prevent ourselves from heightening our own ego. There will be no time for our ego to echo back to us. No time left to enjoy the self-centered feeling of not wanting to be hurt and forgotten.

That time I discovered this kind of circumstance, I knew I should place myself deeper into patience. Because there's nothing to crave in return, nothing I have to lose. Nothing makes each of us have obedience to the intention of being loved and loving in return.

The truth is, I have acquired a temporary affection, an empirical knowledge of pain, and an excruciating happiness that are potentially caused by the romanticism both of us have painted. The truth is, how unbearable the disappointment might occur in the end, I have to work on it on my own.

As the time goes by, I obviously know that his name somewhow provokes chaos in my mind. And the way he moves somewhat impresses me without flaws.

He is the imperfection that perfectly curses.

I started to follow the smokes he created after he was filled within his own satisfaction. I started to love following the smokes who flew noiselessly. And I still do it.

I become accustomed of following it wherever it might take me. Where it goes to the east, I go. Where it goes to the west, I go. And wherever it might be, I would might be.

Slowly, I realize that each other will not stay beneath the pretence forever; trying to know nothing at all, trying not to figure out anything at all. We will never stay unconscious forever. We will never be invisible forever.

The truth might crawl cruelly and we know that it is very unavoidable. I understand that I will occur myself tremendous aches I can't fathom. I realize I am close to murder myself because all the pain then will demand to be felt solemnly.

Yet after all, I know something more important, something more valuable than all,

He sucked the attention, and I wanted to enjoy.

September 19 2016

A.