love stuff

Intellectually I know that I am just replicating the idea of falling in love. The drug that replaces chocolate. The hearts and flowers pap that is easy to digest. Comfort food. I fall in love over and over and over and they are just people I admire. Just my friends. Just the people I should be meeting for a beer, a wink and a nod, and if I were pretty and young as they are pretty and young I would fall in love and float on the buoyant current and just drift off into my life. It is my insecurity that anchors me to something that should be easy. I am held down by the idea that I will never be seen in the same light as the pretty girls.

I take a hacksaw to the chain and I am unmoored. I am raging out into a turbulent sea.

I don't want to look at and buy art, I want to paint.

I don't want to go to concerts I want to shriek out into the night.

I will not sit and wait to be picked I have picked myself and I have taken myself in hand and I am romancing and romanced. Champagne for one in the park by the river, a picnic that only I attend, I am taking the time to enjoy my body without the need for your approval. Just me and myself and an evening spent in my own hands.