I first met My Lover at the age of fifteen, he was twenty-five.
Me and he met on the dance floor. Wet sweat, rolling on the floor, panting. It's like making love after having subtracted all the good things about having sex.
You act like someone has come into your room and turned off all the emotional lights, you are not smiling, not intense, but there are too many to describe you otherwise, so I will say yes. Do you love me? He is both black and white, he told me "You are the one for me" after twenty-four hours we met. So we are for each other.
Everyone says, Darling has nothing to do with me. He studied engineering, just liked a simple life, dancing, now thirty-one years old, but only two girlfriends in his whole life. He can eat a dish for ten years in a row, economical and simple, and everyone loves to go anywhere. Going home with him and still not seeing him say a word, and falling in love for five years has never been a perfect date.
I find it funny, because actually we look outside like water with fire, but actually combined to produce a pretty good hot pot.
No one knows we have the same OCD: If you go upstairs, you have to count out how many steps you have taken, the lights have to be turned on and off three times, the food on the plate must not touch each other. No one knew we didn't watch the movie. Every Friday we started dancing together until morning to watch the sunrise and eat McDonald's. He ordered cheese burgers, french fries, ice cream, and I drank an iced black coffee with no sugar.
When we talked to each other, he often said that he wished the whole world would be destroyed and that he lived alone, he would have plenty of time to upgrade himself. I wish I had the ability to change my appearance, I would be a new person every day, whoever I am, that would be fun. You see that now you cannot be your actual true self because living in a society, I see that I cannot live without society but I cannot live as my true self. In the end we came to the conclusion that each of us would be launched onto a different planet but there must be Wi-Fi so I can Skype with you and take updated photos for everyone.
We love each other because we both like being alone. We see each other every few months because I travel a lot. If we spend time together, each of us is in a corner of the room, sometimes we don't talk to each other all day. Just like that, but at night, the blanket on the bed is the tightest on the earth, turn on the air conditioner to cover the warm blankets despite the year-round summers outside.
When I started a crisis, told stories of the stars, told stories of aliens, said that I believe humans are now aliens, and dinosaurs are inhabitants of the planet, that we are viruses. , Global-warming is when the Earth is feverish, that we can be humans just existing in someone's aquarium, and so on and so on, you listen, really listen. He listens with a serious face like listening to lectures in class. He tilted his head to look at me, never interrupted, he has never uttered something like "Oh like" or "Are you crazy again". It is a look that truly understands, and really wants to listen. But when I finished talking, sometimes an hour, sometimes two, he looked at me for a long, deep time and said: "I read will less books and watch less fiction movies again." (Because it is already enough to listen to me talk about it).
You have to go to school, you have to obey the law, he told me. I have to do what I have to do. You are my anchor. I drift, I flip, I roll. You stand behind, sure, and do exactly what you have to do.
I got into crisis, I broke things in the house, shouted, struggled. He entered the room to see if I had any scratches, if there was any urgo tape on me, then closed the door to go out.
Occasionally it drives me crazy. For him, nothing is crazy, not because you understand my madness, but because for you, the diseases that cannot be seen are best considered not real. He never said it, but his face whenever he saw me sad it was exactly like saying "I wish your sadness was that the cockroach crawled out here so I could smash it to death".
But really, without you - without my anchor - I don't know where I am and what I'm going to do. I get pissed off sometimes, that's of course - a balloon can't fly when you hold it, when it gets jerked, it hangs around until it's puffed, and it's clear that the balloon can't reach the highest possible range. . But if I were to be released, I would have been broken for half a day and fell down on some tree branches, crushed and scattered.
You keep me balanced. We are two pieces of each other's yin and yang, I teach you how to laugh a little, to calm down later. He cracked open the door of life for me to see, that there are many things out there that need me to go through, do not wander forever in your room.
YOU ARE READING
Lỗi - Error 404 English Translation
Kurgu Olmayan"Finally, my autobiography book, Error 404 is out, after 2 years of work. It actually took me only 6 months to write 99% of the book, but couldn't write the ending for a long, long time. I wrote a book about a child who was sexually abused, unhappy...
