This picture and the other below these words are two of my most favorite pictures that come to my mind whenever I pick up my pen.
Of course she has to sit somewhere after standing for too long at a beach. And what else could be a better place than a bench right next to a lake or a public park where you hear innocent smiles of kids and voices of birds. I know there are messed up individuals who’d easily misinterpret my words about the “smiles of kids” as coming from some sort of a child molester. And its alright to be “messed up” now-a-days especially when you are high on happy pills (antidepressants or marijuana/drugs) and/or therapies.
See, how quickly these total losers easily break the flow of my otherwise serene and peaceful thought? I insist there are proper rehabs these individuals should be confined to and not allowed to roam amongst healthy population, especially on dating sites. And it is shocking to see that a certified mentally messed up woman (due to mental health issues) thinks same about me. LOL 🙂 I went to at least 4 shrinks only to verify her claims which were scientifically proven wrong.
On top of it, the same messed-up woman screamed these words to me;
Promise me you won’t destroy another woman’s life.
This woman hideously on antidepressants and fucking her therapist had not only cheated on me, but stolen my money/stuff and done some horrible things to herself more than me. Had I given her more than my stipulated period of time for strangers (two months maximum), she’d be dancing in some sort of African voodoo victory style dance alone in a jungle today.
WHAT THE FUCK!
I had only started to think about beautiful images, totally unrelated to any loser out there and my thoughts and words got disrupted. Is this a sign that I should be also on happy pills (antidepressants) and start fucking my shrinks (psychologists) via therapies?
Nah! I am sure, I can do better. And better I will.
So by mentioning anything about her, is it a sign I’m not “over” her? Oh well, if you’d ask her, she’d swear through her bones that “Amir does not know what love is“. Hence, I don’t think I was even in love with her. Yes, I fucked her five times a day for months since she was enjoying my money and precious time. And I’d be honest, she was my first vagina that I had really put my brain to work upon.
Now you can imagine if you have a vagina and someone’s brain (with a dick) is right next to it. Like seriously. Picture that in your head. If she can give me a blowjob, why can’t I lick her clit? And while doing that, since I don’t feel any love for this woman, all I can think of in my own head is how to do something to her that makes her happy. And while doing that I always ask her things when moving my tongue or fingers if she is responsive to that. I have never fucked anyone more zombie-like since her.
Honestly, I have always had my toys and took very good care of them. She was not a toy and still, I applied the same caring on her like the one I was used to with my toys. But then, why did she run and hide? None of my toys actually cheated on me, stole from me and hid anything from me before her. Probably that is the reason I got shocked at her cheating, stealing, running and hiding while lying to people.
Since her, I have stopped caring about people like I used to care about my toys. I am back to my toys and it feels so good to being back to my original self.
Like the self that stands right next to those beautiful waves of the ocean or sits on a bench where I kissed her. Dammit! AGAIN? See, its so messed up (just like her) and I should just stop writing for now.
Fuck you love
Note: And how can I forget mentioning about the woman in the second picture sitting on the bench. It always reminds me of my first kiss on that bench in the park which I visit to this day non-stop. I go there probably to seek what I lost there during that kiss. She must have kissed hundreds before me and afterwards (so did I only to follow her customs), but that kiss alone takes me back to the same bench all the time.
Probably I wanted to start something totally strange and foreign to me? Something they call love thingy between two strangers i.e. a man and a woman? I continue to ask these questions and even though I may seem like trying to find the answers but deep down inside myself I don’t want to hear them. For example, one answer suggests me to look deeply into these antidepressant-makers who make people fake happiness and come off as “normal” chick.
This feeling of visiting the same bench over and over again is far better than any first or last kiss out there I suppose.
Do I want to stay in that “victim” mindset for the rest of my life? First of all, I’m nobody’s victim and if you’d ask her, she’d scream through her lungs that instead she “is” my victim.
Games of deception people play behind the guise of love. Nothing more or less than that.