Rehab.

I should really be in rehab for habits like mine. Right now, I’m supposed to be writing a few articles (ten to be exact). But then, my brain and fingers still do not feel that inspiration. Sucks.

Instead my mind is toying with the idea of having sex and a hot bath, a full body massage (feet and toes included), spa treatment and a mad shagging section in selected parts of the country/ house/school. You know, sex in the kitchen, on Zuma rock or in House of Assembly where stupid politicians pretend to make good decisions for the people, or on the office boardroom table? I mean, sometimes during my Internship, I used to wonder what went on on the office table the night before. Was that why my manager used to have this queer smile during meetings? *kanye shrug*

Right now, I’m having a full dose of selective amnesia. So please swallow anything you’re about to read with a spoonful of salt.

I'm going to be “single” (notice the quote) until the minute that priest says "You may kiss the bride" and if that never happens, I'm going to have a long string of lovers, all artistic, all insane. Just like me. I'm too fundamentally strange to not have an explosive love life. I thrive on poetic justice; my life is a script, written by my creator to entertain my ancestors.

Everything about a new day, is new. There will never be another tomorrow; there will never be another yesterday, today is the only today you will ever experience. Today is the only day that matters. So today, I want to be intrigued, I want to be amazed; I want to share some energy. Let's spread our power all over the room, explode into a thousand ethereal bits, we'll come up for air tomorrow. Nothing else existing.

But whenever I school is about to start, I find myself yearning for an interest, a friend, something in my mind switches, all of a sudden there are just so many girls around and my optimism starts to perk up and play with the idea that at least one of these could tickle my fancy for a little while. I get bored here very easily, and as tedious as women are, they do entertain, I enjoy being entertained. I mean, isn't that the point of entertainment?

What's so funny about it with me, is the fact that it has little to no sap factors in it at all, I just want to find someone as technically and romantically sick as I am, who will give me freedom without them, and fiery security with them, mental food you know? I want to be understood as an entity all on my own, I'm not a “boyfriend”. I will never be a “boyfriend”.

I'm a lover.

I'm a soulmate.

Maybe its because my relationship status on here has never been “single” or “in a relationship” ever before. You get used to such.

Sorry for the digress.

And again, I repeat. I will never be a “boyfriend”. I'm a lover. I'm a soulmate. And when you play in the tendrils of those two arena's, societies’ laws and expectations about "relationships" are destroyed entirely, there are no rules, only raw emotions, raw energy transferred between two human beings, it is indefinable in it's power. You can't box it in with "I love you" with "That's my wifey" with "That's my boyfriend". What the fuck is a boyfriend?

I know, its hard to understand. Possibly because it’s so simple. As simple as two people having interlocked hearts, having no reason to ask the other “What’s wrong?” simply because you can feel it just by the mere crease on your partners face? And knowing not to appease that crease by talking, but just by actions?

I’m truly and completely worn out, because I am damn tired of faking love. I am once again disparaged. And the more it happens the more morose I become. I like her so much but I have a feeling this may not be worth it. But then, I’m still wide open, I will forever be, despite the distance, and despite my stance, I still truly want to fall in love. Maybe not yet. Maybe I still consciously deny it. And run the fuck away from it. Because I've turned into this robot and I can't reach the switch to reverse the process.

But a relationship has never been something I've been able to fabricate. I am far too complex of a person to be able to fool myself or somebody else for that matter in such a way. I’m way too intense for that.

But sex? Sex I can do. A blunt? Terribly so too.

You all have your coping mechanisms and I have mine.

Don't judge. Bad ass kids need shock collars.

I need one. Are you?

Make me believe.

Adios, brethren. Adios.