Cynicalisms

On love.

I will not pretend

I do not know what it is or what it should feel like

But in all honesty, I do not know what I should say

or rather,

I have a lot to say, but nothing I will say will be clear or make sense because if it did

I’d be writing something a bit more vague or of poetic beauty,

something deep and inspiring, perhaps

or fiery and passionate,

with a touch of pain and heartache

or whatever,

whatever it is it should feel like.

So here I am blabbering like a fish flapping about in a rusty metal tin can,

which doesn’t make sense, as I’ve warned, because fish in metal tin cans

are almost always

the dead ones.

Did I just make a metaphor out of a simile?

Cool.

Funny, you know,

it’s not like I’m completely inexperienced

or a stony, cold-hearted, unmovable

being

incapable of returning the affections of those who at least try.

And no, I am not naive or thick-headed

but then again, do naive and thick-headed people admit to their state of mind?

I’ve wondered countless times,

why

do I shut myself off immediately without even ever trying?

Is it wisdom,

or fear

or simply a lack of interest?

But then I ask again,

why not?

Yes, why not. Nothing wrong with wanting to be free of the strings that others so easily

accept.

Perhaps they feel ready and I simply do not,

or at least am quite happy with where I am.

Or perhaps I misunderstand what I see,

because sometimes things are not so obvious and I have to see beyond the surface

and sometimes they are

just

a bit too explicit.

So,

is it wiser to just lay back, away from what I can already predict will happen

or allow myself to go through

the roller-coaster rides, the sunrise and sunsets,

and whatnots

just for the sake of it.

Sometimes though, just sometimes,

I let things go.

Just

for a moment.

But I always find myself running back to the arms of my dear old solitude

who embraces me without engulfing me,

and I can be myself

completely.

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