A Travellerspoint blog


the infinitely prolonged

Arundel. West Sussex. Castle, cathedral, hotel, work, taxi, London, train, train, train and somewhat more train and moving from one hotel to the other, always an eye on whether will have net connection or not. Worldcup final night. Bloody boring game. Unbearable clutch on my chest to be at Budapest now, and just drink a beer in front of the giant screen, just laugh and let it all off me. Just be. Just simply be. Not running rounds, whether to call or not, not even asking myself every bloody minute about wtf's happening. Just be there. An live it. SimFuckingPle
What are chances a relationship has for survival if 95% of the time it is disconnected, detached and filled with fucked up thoughts and even when could be it remains might be. I don't even know when we laughed last time, let alone laugh, smile, this whole thing, is so misscommunicated, so overworded, so off the fucking track and it just keeps rolling, and feeling this just kills. Shit. Whining. Go and have a night out, or a morning out or just have a bloody easy time, half an hour? Deal. Make it 20 mins. Deal again. Meet in 2 days? Deal yet again. Just talk as we used to talk, from inside to inside, not surface to logbooks, that freaks us both out. It is just palpable. Just gain control again, cause this can end up in ending up, damn, don't even want to think about it. Just know that we all talk and soul buffs, and crap is what we don't enjoy the least. We got our doors for each other and something is swerving off.
Anyways, new job, well, ok. FMCG after oil, but hey, in a Ferrari oil is FMCG, right. The place is nice, first week was beautiful, we departed ok. Not the way it should have been, since we could not meet for obvi-fucking-ous obli-fucking-gations and must-be-at-home shit. But the first week was great. We put each other to sleep, we Talked. The Talk Talk bit. What kept it all afloat all along. The one without fucking future commiserations and stuff, just trust. Just love. Just longing.
Gone fast. Ever faster. It is like purgatory, walking on meaningless words, not sharing, just strodding in this dusty small talk - no talk shit. Now, that would blow. But this is off our music, just feel it. So hard, ever harder to walk out of this. Want so much, but without understanding the whole I just cannot. Drifting. Popcorn drama we dance on phones with true blood for the sake of it. So hazardous, so out of grip.
Thinking too much. There is no substitution. If we, by some cosmical chance can make it, and we can have a half a year truly in each other, probably we can heal, and get back to the deeper than deep, more trusting than trust. So off orbit now. And none of us are kids, and this just flips the lid, and can't pass it on, can't shrug off this darn logbook image. Kills the hell out of every bit of me. We used to be cool, and things could be cool, but this is like slowly freezing fucking over, and just can't make what I'm saying go through. We just need to learn to talk again. Like walking, after years of devastating coma, in just darn days. Losing would mean losing the world.
But being here, being away, when she is there is and locked in this encrypted miscommunication repeated words shit is unbearable. So bloody dangerous. All my atoms want to take the next plane. I will be home in a weeks time for a week, they will stay for one week longer. I'd hate to be an agenda item and this is so risky to try to put it in a way, that I just want our talks back and not complaining. Shit. But I fear if this goes on this is what will mean the me. But that is not me. What is left of me there in fears, is not me. We are not kids, it's not time ownership, never been. Kids fidling with live Claymore mines. So dangerous.
So hate to talk my words, they say squat. It is boring whining shit.
Just longing.

Posted by Torch42 13:38

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