Switches and Suicidal Vixens

Healthy-Woman-Will-Die-By-Doctor-Assisted-Euthanasia-Over-Suicidal-Thoughts

It has been a while since I wrote anything. I’ve been struggling to maintain my balance in between my job, a couple of businesses I started here and there, and an older lady. My job is something I’ve been handling for a while now, so it didn’t pose any problems except when I was texting and sexting this lady. My businesses were proving to be exactly what I did not expect. I met a few con-men here and there, a few thieves here and there, rogue employees and cunning clients. I learned what I could when I could. I’m still learning. I’ll get the hang of it sooner than you think. You wait and see. The rest of my time over the past three months has accumulated over seven thousand text messages from phantom lady. I call her phantom lady because she illegally fished my phone number from places where I trust that my personal information is kept private at all times. Let me answer you before you start asking why I didn’t ignore or warn her before things got heated up. Her English was perfect. In this digital generation that we put up with, text messages have become a messed up business of under spelled words if I may, deliberate confusions between ‘x’ and‘s’ and pathetic punctuation or even the absolute lack of it. Her messages were precise and easy to read. She started a conversation like an arsonist starts a fire. It never stopped until one of us put it out before we slept.

When I put my rig together a few months before, I felt I was alright for that period in time. Extended display with three screens working separately and together at the same time like an extension of my brain kept me indoors every time I wasn’t at my dead end job. When you put together a computer from sensitive and expensive parts then make it work just like you wanted it to, the gratification is intoxicating. I got used to switching between movies, computer games, the internet, e-books, magazines, hip-hop, music videos, and software. I hardly looked at my phone. My life became a relationship between me, this machine and everything in it. We had a good thing going. This is where I partied, did my drinking sprees, wrote my almost complete articles, did my life plans, calculated my savings, income, and expenditure and saw the world when I wasn’t out working out. This is where I lived… in my virtual world. I always thought to myself, “How would it be if I found someone with my exact taste for this stuff? “What if I found someone who would never keep pressuring me to go out clubbing or for aimless excursions on the white sands of this coast? My question got answered when the conversations started… or that’s what I thought. Honestly, the conversations were enticing and entertaining. When we finally met, the over-the-wire chemistry poured over the brim and temperatures rose to unbearable levels. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush doing all the unbuttoning and grinding, maybe it was just pure ignorance born out of the carelessness of our reckless nature that is our youth, and maybe it was genuine heart to heart communication in sync with the moment and our bodies. I have no clue what it actually was, but contact beat conversation. Two days down the line, I had a relatively distant relationship with my machine and a close relationship with phantom lady and my phone. Phantom lady would sing along to my favorite tracks when I played my type of music. We never danced because we wouldn’t get that close to each other without forgetting about the music altogether. What we had now was something that we wouldn’t say no to… until the messages got too much and I couldn’t take it. The good thing about machines is the fact that everything is run by a switch or a button. I couldn’t switch this attention seeking chat machine off even if I switched off my phone. She knew where and how to find me. There were no buttons, codes or firewalls to keep her away from me.

I value solitude. After spending my day around all sorts of people at work, and on my way to and fro, my place is the only place where I can be absolutely free. I can think clearly and throw my hands around when I’m listening to Tech9ne’s albums without anyone giving me the weird ‘you’re-losing-it’ stare. When phantom lady graced me with her increasingly frequent presence, my absolute indoor freedom fizzled away. I felt like she was changing me. I’m not complaining about a lady’s company, I’m just saying it’s not comfortable not knowing when she might show up just because my phone is off or she got bored at her place and didn’t think to ask me whether I was at my place or not. I got bored a few weeks ago and decided to end all contact and conversation in general. I called her and tried to explain what I had told her when we met. I wasn’t ready for a full-time relationship and there is no way that I would accidentally fall into the bottomless pit called love anytime soon. She stayed quiet. I’ve always known that silence is consent so I imagined everything was fine and under control. What I didn’t know was that she had a full grown psycho mentality locked somewhere between all those dreadlocks on her head. Two days later, she went full psycho and the suicide threats started. I thought to myself, “good riddance… if that’s how you wanna go out!” What I didn’t know was that all her suicide notes had been written to strategically point to me as the source of her misery… To be continued…

Closed Maze?

                 the maze

How? How does it happen? How do you manage to put so much trash in your head?…  How goddamn-it? How then do you flush your system, your body, your mind? A probationary period maybe? Just to be clean in body, mind, and soul for the mystics or the spiritual? How? Tell me. When do you change for the better, maybe the best? Is there really the best? Is it ever enough? Does the urge for much more make you better or do you enslave yourself to a cause that is endless to the grave? Are you better than anyone? Do you associate your problems with your environment,  or with the people around you? Or with your origin? Is it better to live for purpose or to live with the fear of failure? Is it better to live just to breathe, eat, fuck, then die? Is it easier to just row the damn boat till the waves just knock you over?

These questions are like a maze. A closed maze. No answers, no way out. Psychologists, psychiatrists, people of acquired knowledge have problems too, don’t they? How would you know? I wouldn’t see one. I’ve never visited one so I don’t know. Dealing with people is hard. Especially if your intellect allows you a wider view of every situation compared to the people around you. Who do you compare yourself to? How do you choose? How do you decide which path to follow? They say listen to your heart. My heart doesn’t talk. Hell, how does a heart even choose? Maybe it has a brain of its own. At least that’s what my brain tells me. Or is it brains? To choose a path is hard. To find a way is easy. Things that don’t make sense seem easy to understand. A quantum physics book, for instance, is understandable but complicated at the same time, even completely easy to a few people I know. On the other hand, simple decisions like ‘quit smoking’ or quit some crazy shit are far much harder… but it’s simple, isn’t it? What are all these questions for? Raking a brain for answers that are practical and possibly achievable over time is a hard task. Why? Because every dawn changes at its pleasure. Let’s see what tomorrow brings with it. Answers, questions, maybe decisions to behaviors that need not be questioned… maybe no changes maybe the changes of a lifetime. Maybe. We’ll see, won’t we? Yes? No? Are you sure? I don’t know. So I close my eyes and leave tomorrow’s plans for tomorrow. I can always take a pen and pad and count my chicks before they hatch. I’ll think about it. I’ll even question myself all over again and see what I come up with.