Monday, May 13, 2013

Can’t We Just Laugh It All Off?



This is not an impulsive message. This is not a love letter. This is not a plea. Not an accusation. Neither it is a declaration. Just a very well thought of, intensely coherent, question.

Can’t we just laugh it all off?

Half a decade as you say since it happened, get over it. Move on. Scamper away. Kapeesh. And I just end up looking like the lovesick puppy who just doesn’t get it. Aaarggghhh! It’s not true!  

Why don’t we just laugh it all off?

There was no you. Neither the idea of you. And oh no, don’t tell me it was the idea of looove that I clung on to. You disrespect me, thinking all these things. Don’t you get it? You embarrassed me.

And

I can’t just laugh it all off.

Not by myself. I’ve been doing it for too long now and the laughter just runs like a maniac alongside of me. I share no part in it. It too is laughing at me. You degenerate, you prick, you insulting motherfucker, you’re the cause of all my misery.

How could you just laugh it all off?

I was smart. I was aloof. I was the bottom card of the tarot deck. I was the supreme mystery. Boys swarmed around me. Not all at once, no, I wouldn’t fool myself so. But they were there, in the sidelines, begging for my attention. Sending me messages. And chocolates and roses and expensive gifts. And then there was you, you scoundrel. You called me tiny, you named me dumb. You made me slow. You called me nice!

Nice is for mittens. Nice is for idiots. Nice has no significance. It’s a word that came up as a filler in awkward conversations. You made me your filler when it was my hormones that overflowed. You made me awkward. How dare you

Make me, so desperately, want to laugh it all off?

And then there were riddles. Then there was jealousy. And yet there was hate. And yet there was frustration. It was just as well we broke it all off. Only problem was, you didn’t stop laughing yet. And it got so bad at one point, your laughter converted to guilt. We struggled for words. We used ‘used’. I called you names. You ignored me. I ignored you and you ignored me more. And it was just as well, coz you’re never gonna know how I really feel. So I let it be and found new words. From there came the ‘idea of you’ as you thought. There was no idea, you dumbfuck. You’re a giant in my brain that was lame as hell. But there you were, so I couldn’t ignore you, could I? If anything, the ideas were born to vacuum the place clean. I romanticized this phantom, I made it more than it was, coz what it was was just too silly. An angry, repressed, venom-spewing, foul mouthed creature was what it was, with lofty ideals and…what do they call it? Delusions of grandeur.

But I’m just being harsh. I never assessed the phantom this way. In fact I was very fond of it. I was perfectly oblivious to every single one of its flaws. If flaws there were, they were enlarged into character. It was my personal creation and perfect it was in its role as the....What do you say again? Yes, antihero. What girl doesn’t love that shit?  

Sigh….

I really just want to laugh it all off.

The distance grew, the phantom grew, in all its mighty emptiness. And it occupied me so, I became a hole. And the opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. But hell, how did two opposite elements come to be if not in unison, onto this universe of dualistic appearance? And if you’re being perfectly indifferent, it just means the love of mine is pure as shit! Holy shit, look how that worked out. Unrequited love is the perfect romantic construct.

Doesn’t that just make you want to laugh your fucking head off?

Yes, there it is now, the uproarious, the unsalted, undiminished, unvanquishable laughter in my head. Do you hear it too? Coz if you do, we can end this charade right now.

Laugh it all off.

But I don’t think you do. See, that’s where our problems began. The laughter isn’t real. Not one peal of it, not since the beginning of our time together. What there is, is some dark, inexpressible entity born out of mirth, but totally unlike it. The mind differentiates it as laughter because when brains are shaking inside like jelly, it doesn’t give much room for creativity. Yes, indifference it might as well be. For there you are still, unresponsive, irritated, frowning to yourself…man, this chick has really got it for me. Let me be the gentleman and put her down gently. We had a pact girl, we were casual. What are you going blaming me for? Of course, I say, my cackle high pitched. Who the hell is blaming you for anything? The demons are mine. The joke’s on me. The dumb small town chic who thought she could take something big.

Oh why won’t you just swallow!

Come on, it’s funny! Why not just laugh it all off?



Why don’t you get it? It’s awkward and I don’t like it. I feel stupid coz I’ve done stupid coz I’ve been stupid coz stupid stupid stupid. It’s the bane of my being, my supreme embarrassment, it’s what drives me nuts, freezes me in a spot between past and present unable to think of what more I’ve said or done. It just piles up, the stink of my shame. And the answer to why can’t I let go. In so many sentences. So many words. Theories and quantum physics. Encompassing all but that stink. Oh how I’ve debased myself with this foolduggery. How I used my words to twist meanings of something that’s just not there. Not there. Black. Kaput.

My first love, my words, I’m sorry I used you thus, for this aimless purpose. I’m sorry I tried to put you in the middle of it all, the ugliness and the desperation. The lack of meaning. You do not deserve to be in a place like that. You do not deserve to be manipulated, to be tested, to be emptied of your divine meaning. For if you’re not divine, nothing ever is and ever will be. So never again, I promise you.

For the moment I doubted you…I knew I lost it all.

And there’s nobody left to laugh it all off.

Love unrequited is not love at all. The opposite of love is not indifference. It is love itself. The capability to love. In so many forms you’ve taught me this lesson, in so many ways you showed me your presence. And yet, I remained the doubting fool coz it just doesn’t cut it, to end a story weepy.

Can’t we just laugh it all off?




Related Post: Why my Cruel...


No comments:

Post a Comment

Say hi to PMS, my kitty!