Some crappy text I wrote a while ago...I felt like sharing...
One Pancake too Many
- I'll get the scrambled eggs with black coffee please.
Another mid-afternoon breakfast at La Mre Poule, yet this time, something is different, something is missing. Three months ago, we had this conversation and the conclusion was pretty clear: We are not together anymore. This might sound a little confusing to you, but the whole breakfast thing for me is nothing more than a reminder of all those things that are missing in my life right now and all those things that could have been. You being here is just another way to avoid the inevitable: This is never going to work.
- I'll get some blueberry pancakes and coffee too, thanks
I guess this is as good as it gets. You with your pancakes, me with those eggs I won't even eat because you know I don't eat much when I wake up. I'm only here because you didn't want to stay in bed and you were hungry, as always. I think you never understood that I truly hated breakfast but enjoyed seeing you happy over some fruits and syrup. So, us being here right now cannot get any better than that. I mean, this morning was like good old times but is this what we are now? Like good old times? Not that I mind but to be quite honest, I'd rather find some other way to spend my sunday mornings than to mourn over a relation that is clearly not enough for both of us.
And this is where I beg to differ; we are not enough for each other anymore. We mentioned love, we mentioned affection, but what about ambition? Is this too much to ask nowadays to hope for something more than a relationship? I mean, there is more to life than love and cuddling in the morning. Can't tell you what yet, but trust me, there is something else. It's hard not to tell you all those things because right now you're trying to read through my eyes who are clearly trying to avoid any contact. It is hard for you, I know, but right now I don't feel like speaking my mind out loud. There's a thousand ideas going in thousand of directions and all I feel like giving are sighs and empty looks. I'm sorry, talk to me, I might respond but right now the motifs on the wall are getting all my attentions. It's obvious that not so long ago there was a picture hanged on that particular spot but they felt the need to move it, why? Was it disturbing? Did somebody break it by accident? I don't see why someone will move a picture from a wall and not notice the obvious color difference that it leaves.
- What's on your mind?
The obvious question, I can't really blame you though, I haven't spoke a word for the past five minutes. And it's not like I can pretend to do something, the coffee is not here yet and the only thing that could even serve as excuse is the two new mothers in the booth next to us. It's not that they are interesting or anything but, given the actual non-conversation thing that we have, I can't help but eavesdrop. Baby this, baby that, don't sleep anymore, my tits are hurting, so on, get a life. Do you still want to be there with me by your side? I mean, the non-sleeping tits-aching state, worth it? We had that talk once, was even less pleasurable than the getting apart one. I guess this is the deal with the conversations, you can remember a few and most of the time you only recall the ones you wish never took place to begin with. Like right now, I know I'll remember everything I haven't said and I know for a fact that I'd be willing to trade this moment for, let's say, almost anything I can think off. Car crashes, leukemia, fungicide, get the idea? Anything is closer to pleasant than this particular situation that we're in and still, we're living it to the fullest. The silences, the looks away, the pseudo hand feels, everything that we've lived for the past three years but tuned down a notch. Half a smile, half a kiss, half a fuck but yet, a handful of feelings that I thought were buried so deep that they were never there to begin with.
One Pancake too Many
- I'll get the scrambled eggs with black coffee please.
Another mid-afternoon breakfast at La Mre Poule, yet this time, something is different, something is missing. Three months ago, we had this conversation and the conclusion was pretty clear: We are not together anymore. This might sound a little confusing to you, but the whole breakfast thing for me is nothing more than a reminder of all those things that are missing in my life right now and all those things that could have been. You being here is just another way to avoid the inevitable: This is never going to work.
- I'll get some blueberry pancakes and coffee too, thanks
I guess this is as good as it gets. You with your pancakes, me with those eggs I won't even eat because you know I don't eat much when I wake up. I'm only here because you didn't want to stay in bed and you were hungry, as always. I think you never understood that I truly hated breakfast but enjoyed seeing you happy over some fruits and syrup. So, us being here right now cannot get any better than that. I mean, this morning was like good old times but is this what we are now? Like good old times? Not that I mind but to be quite honest, I'd rather find some other way to spend my sunday mornings than to mourn over a relation that is clearly not enough for both of us.
And this is where I beg to differ; we are not enough for each other anymore. We mentioned love, we mentioned affection, but what about ambition? Is this too much to ask nowadays to hope for something more than a relationship? I mean, there is more to life than love and cuddling in the morning. Can't tell you what yet, but trust me, there is something else. It's hard not to tell you all those things because right now you're trying to read through my eyes who are clearly trying to avoid any contact. It is hard for you, I know, but right now I don't feel like speaking my mind out loud. There's a thousand ideas going in thousand of directions and all I feel like giving are sighs and empty looks. I'm sorry, talk to me, I might respond but right now the motifs on the wall are getting all my attentions. It's obvious that not so long ago there was a picture hanged on that particular spot but they felt the need to move it, why? Was it disturbing? Did somebody break it by accident? I don't see why someone will move a picture from a wall and not notice the obvious color difference that it leaves.
- What's on your mind?
The obvious question, I can't really blame you though, I haven't spoke a word for the past five minutes. And it's not like I can pretend to do something, the coffee is not here yet and the only thing that could even serve as excuse is the two new mothers in the booth next to us. It's not that they are interesting or anything but, given the actual non-conversation thing that we have, I can't help but eavesdrop. Baby this, baby that, don't sleep anymore, my tits are hurting, so on, get a life. Do you still want to be there with me by your side? I mean, the non-sleeping tits-aching state, worth it? We had that talk once, was even less pleasurable than the getting apart one. I guess this is the deal with the conversations, you can remember a few and most of the time you only recall the ones you wish never took place to begin with. Like right now, I know I'll remember everything I haven't said and I know for a fact that I'd be willing to trade this moment for, let's say, almost anything I can think off. Car crashes, leukemia, fungicide, get the idea? Anything is closer to pleasant than this particular situation that we're in and still, we're living it to the fullest. The silences, the looks away, the pseudo hand feels, everything that we've lived for the past three years but tuned down a notch. Half a smile, half a kiss, half a fuck but yet, a handful of feelings that I thought were buried so deep that they were never there to begin with.
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out with the old, in with the NEW!!