Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Empty afternoons, whitewashed walls

Your agenda.
Your house.
Your excuses.
Your friends.
Your activities.
Your stoicness.

It's all about youyouyou. Where do I come in?

I embrace indifference now, complete numbness to you and the things you do. Or rather the things you fail to do.

What's the point in being a bundle of life and vitality for someone who only disappoints? Like the Bard said, you have become 'someone who gives me for my pain a world of sighs' (only that Shakespeare meant that Desdemona was always a sympathetic listener to her Othello; whilst for me it means the reverse- you literally only sigh)

So don't blame me if you notice I'm slowly slipping away.

And don't be surprised if you reach out for me one day, when you finally recall my existence, that I'm as flaccid as vapour that can filter through the pores of your hands.

Finally, don't be shocked if you find that one fine day, I'm gone.


Laid bare at 4:42 pm
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