city boy blues  

It’s been a couple of days now. I think I’ve gotten a little better. I think. I’m scared to go back though. I’m scared that I’ll go back to everything. 

It’s hard. So hard. It still hurts. It’s still fresh.

I don’t want what happened to happen again. And not just that, but everything. I have to learn to grow. Grow on my own. I’m doing a lot of things that people would be proud of now. And there’s so much more to do. I can’t go back to it. There’s no point going back to it. It’s all just going to happen again…

I’m upset. I’m angry. I’m ashamed. I’m disappointed. I have only myself to blame.

I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot. I’m stupid.

There’s nothing else but to escape.

This is the place where dreams come to die and come to be fulfilled.

This is life.

Waiting for a bus going nowhere. Well, “somewhere”. It’s almost 3AM. Only a few hours to go. And then I can escape this city. This city and all it’s glory.

Just a few more hours to go. And then I can rest. I can relax. I can be… free.

Just a few more hours. Just a few more.

It pisses me off sometimes, seeing people who’ve been born into this world with some sort of handicap. I was working to work today when I saw this family walking in front of me. The dad was carrying one of his children and the mom was carrying what looked like to be crutches. Like those crutches for individuals who have a disability with their legs. It pains me to see that sometimes. Sometimes I would if I could give my legs, or anything thing of my own for that matter to someone who never knew the sensation of walking without assistance. Even to a stranger. It makes me think why would God do such a thing. If he actually existed. That’s sometime that I’m still trying to figure out.

Why, God? Why?

A novel, which would later become adapted into a film, that I’ve been thinking about writing. Maybe I’ll provide a synopsis, sooner rather than later.

Too many bad memories. Not enough good ones.

It’s a concept I think I’ll never be able to understand. How can you possibly be friends, really good friends for that matter, with people you had or have sex with?

There are boundaries. Limits. Fine lines and rules. Restrictions even. Sex can change things. It can change everything. As sad as it may sound, sex can ruin a relationship. There’s so many things that come to pass after having sex. Things that may never pass at all.

There’s the level of respect, the level of comfort and even the level of trust. As much as you may think otherwise, after sex you’ll be thought of in a different way. A way that may not necessarily be good or bad, but a way that isn’t a friend. Friends with benefits either end as lovers or as nothing at all. There is not one person, including myself, that has been able to maintain a friendship-not just an ordinary friendship, but a deep friendship-with a person they’ve had sex with. It’s just not possible. At least, that’s what I think. But what do I know? A lot.

I think it’s naive to think that you can maintain a friendship with someone you’ve had sex with. If I’m wrong, then please explain. It’s been plaguing my mind. I just want to understand.

This may be the last time I see her again. These next three days may be the last days that we’ll spend with eachother, after which will drift apart and never see eachother again. This weekend. This final weekend. With nobody else but me and her. These may be the last moments of our life.