I find myself time and again in this game for the jaded and it feels like two old magicians trying to show each other new tricks. Doesn't it? Nothing spikes your enthusiasm anymore. And you know how it's gonna go.
You discover pieces that could go together, but you know they're gonna break apart soon enough. "Oh, you like that movie? I like it, too." "You read that book? Haha, I read it, too, ain't that funny?" Let's share all this information that we're gonna throw into oblivion.
I'll show you songs that I've sent to others. I'll make the same jokes I made with the ones before you, just like from a carefully written script. I know exactly how things are going to go and even so, I'm gonna join this dance, just to enjoy the emptiness of it all.
I will keep you at a distance with my funny lines that I've said to others many times before you and I'll shield myself behind the questions I address.
I'll invite you in, only just to impatiently wait for you to leave, so that I can enjoy my evening cigarette and the familiarity of silence. There are no sleepovers in this game. Shallowness is my friend and I enjoy it like a newly found drug.
Romance? No. Let me fuck your brains out so that you can forget about wanting to get to know me. I'll avoid intimacy while giving you the illusion you are holding my soul in the palm of your hands. But you enjoy the trick just as much as I do, don't you?
Vulnerability? Maybe. But just a little bit. And then I'll shatter myself under the weight of my own unfulfilled expectations.
But sometimes. Sometimes there's a glitch. The script changes. The old words don't come out anymore. The lines you memorized to perfection make no sense in the new scenario.
You have to show something different. Not because the old lines wouldn't work, but you feel you could do better. And the one standing in front of you deserves a better show. A more authentic view of the author.
So instead of running away, you're finding yourself trying to get closer. You open your palms and show these broken pieces that you've kept hidden for so long, you even forgot they were there.
You take a dip into this emotion. New words start coming and coming, you fill in page after page and you're getting hooked.
One morning, you find yourself searching for new songs that are made for this play and this play only.
And then, just then, this perverted thought. This perverted thought you've told yourself so many times and that ultimately threw you in the same pits of despair. That thought you clench on, because it's the only thing that makes you get up in the morning and start over. That thought: THIS TIME'S GOING TO BE DIFFERENT.
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