Tis the time

It was that time of the year again, when you’re reminded of everything you are and you haven’t been. The time you make promises to yourself that you know you cannot keep. The time you pretend you love your family the same way you love watching movies by yourself. It’s that time of the year, to travel, be happy, open gifts, spend more money than you have then do it all over again. It’s when those you love hurt you the most and are not even ashamed of doing so. They feel righteous, they feel entitled, they feel as if they could ask you anything even if they couldn’t and they do. They ask about your life, your family, why you don’t have kids, why you’re not married, why you don’t have a big house with a dog. No one ever asks you about the things you’re doing right. It’s as if they had a crystal ball of every part of your life you have failed at and you know it. They hit you right in the heart and you can’t breathe. You want to escape, wake up from that bad dream. It’s the time you wish reality wasn’t real and you could wake up and choose a different dimension to be in, where there’s no reality, there’s no family, there’s no failures. A different reality where people can only acknowledge you for your achievements and congratulate you for all you did right in your life: a life without nagging, what a relief. And if we create our own reality why do these people keep pushing you to be your worst self, and why don’t we create a reality that makes us happy. It can’t be all because we’re so bored. I changed my mind, I’d rather be stuck in happiness. I’d rather be stuck in a perfect relationship that has no place to go because there’s so much love to give. And to receive. A person who’s so loving and caring that I don’t even understand where all that love is coming from and even then I accept it. Someone who doesn’t judge, who doesn’t complain, who worships me with every part of their soul, and loves me with all my flaws and imperfections. I love myself no matter what - well I have no choice. I know I have to live with myself every day of my life. There’s always a choice and you could be different people, you could have different lives, it all depends on the choices you make. So much responsibility, no pressure. That’s what they say, but there’s so much pressure that most of us can’t handle it and we create ways to escape our reality. As if one day we could achieve perfection and we know that’s just a concept, like the world is round, except the world really is round. Or is it, no one has ever been there to prove, it’s all theories and how we perceive our own reality. What if we’re living in a piece of paper and we’re just super heroes in a comic book. We would never know and we could be puppets living on a string. Humans are easily gullible and I’m not a regular human. I see beyond all that, after we’re dead, after all this doesn’t exist and we have passed who would be able to tell the story. And in that time of the year, will we ever know that it’s that time of the year. Other civilizations could create other realities and all that we have created could mean nothing. It’s called evolution. And it’s that time of the year when you think all those things and you look inside of yourself for answers, and you search your brain as if you could change reality in a second. And you can, but you don’t, you still don’t until it’s unbearable. Then you realize it’s not only that time of the year. It’s when you’re reminded of it and you know it every second. It’s every second of every day, all year long, and you know it inside of your head. And it’s only that time of the year that you have to face it and pretend it’s that time of the year and you’re happy. And you don’t believe in any theories, and all you care about is eating and drinking and wearing red. Tis the season. Tis the time. It’s that time of the year. Again. Over and over and over. Again.

Coming to terms with the idea of love. Not easy at all. But she wasn't easy, she was the opposite of easy, crazy, complicated, complex. Love is just an idea imprinted in our heads by many movies and books and old couples. And like the world of ideas it is idealized, that's exactly it. There's no ideal perfect love; it just doesn't exist. And sure a couple in love will prove me wrong for the first month, maybe a couple months, but the love will be gone and their ideals too, and they will be a couple just another couple trying to find the long lost love that remains in their memories and nowhere else. Maybe we could have done things differently, maybe that day if you didn't say this or if I didn't say that, or if we didn't do it, or if we had waited longer, or if I believed you, or if you told me what you were really thinking, or if you introduced me to your parents sooner, or if you met my family, or if we went to the beach once more, or if we got married right away, or if we never talked about relationships, or if we weren't honest with each other, maybe we should have lied, or if you made me feel more secure, or if our love wasn't so sure, or if we didn't have so many expectations, or if we didn't try to travel across nations, or if we just gave up everything once and for all, or if I didn't want anything from you, nothing at all. So many things could have been different. Remember that time when it felt like first love, like being in love for the first time, like innocent children who still believe in love, do you remember. It's gone, it's all in the past, all the innocence left behind. I wasn't sure, I wasn't ready, I wasn't there, I wasn't yours, I wasn't prepared for so much, I was too far away. It was only once, only one kiss, only one touch, only one look, only for one second that I wasn't yours. It hurts the same, one second or a thousand. It's all it takes, one second is all it takes to kill what is inside, pure feeling, true and honest love. How do you get it back, you don't. You never will. It will always be thorns without petals. That's what love is. In the end it's all that's left but they always sell the idea of the petals and the smell of perfume. Love dies just like any flower until there's nothing left.