blunt_action zoned
ceux qui répriment leur désir sont ceux dont le désir est assez faible pour être réprimé
car si je ride encore les rues de ma ville
comprends qu’on n’oublie pas ses rêves indélébiles
et si je traîne encore le soir dans les bars
c’est que chaque verre efface un peu son image
une étrangère vous renouvelle, une jeune fille vous rajeunit, mais c'est avec les vieilles affections qu'on se continue
choose designer lingerie, in the vain hope of kicking some life back into a dead relationship. choose handbags, choose high-heeled shoes, cashmere and silk, to make yourself feel what passes for happy. choose an iphone made in china by a woman who jumped out of a window and stick it in the pocket of your jacket fresh from a south-asian firetrap. choose facebook, twitter, snapchat, instagram and a thousand others ways to spew your bile across people you’ve never met. choose updating your profile, tell the world what you had for breakfast and hope that someone, somewhere cares. choose looking up old flames, desperate to believe that you don’t look as bad as they do. choose live-blogging, from your first wank ‘til your last breath; human interaction reduced to nothing more than data. choose ten things you never knew about celebrities who’ve had surgery. choose screaming about abortion. choose rape jokes, slut-shaming, revenge porn and an endless tide of depressing misogyny. choose 9/11 never happened, and if it did, it was the jews. choose a zero-hour contract and a two-hour journey to work. and choose the same for your kids, only worse, and maybe tell yourself that it’s better that they never happened. and then sit back and smother the pain with an unknown dose of an unknown drug made in somebody’s fucking kitchen. choose unfulfilled promise and wishing you’d done it all differently. choose never learning from your own mistakes. choose watching history repeat itself. choose the slow reconciliation towards what you can get, rather than what you always hoped for. settle for less and keep a brave face on it. choose disappointment and choose losing the ones you love, then as they fall from view, a piece of you dies with them until you can see that one day in the future, piece by piece, they will all be gone and there’ll be nothing left of you to call alive or dead. choose your future, x. choose life.
j’étais si prêt de toi que j’ai froid près des autres
je te cherche par-delà l’attente
par delà moi-même
et je ne sais plus tant je t’aime
lequel de nous deux est absent
les routes les plus difficiles mènent aux plus belles destinations
I’m writing you a letter. that’s right, a good old fashioned letter. It’s a lost art really, like handjobs. i have a confession to make – i didn’t like you very much at first. you were just this annoying little blob who smelled nice, most of the time, but you didn’t seem to have much interest in me. which I of course found vaguely insulting. it was just you and your mom against the world. funny how some things never change.
so I cruised along, doing my thing, acting a fool, not really understanding how being a parent changes you. i don’t remember the exact moment everything changed, I just know that it did. one minute I was impenetrable, nothing could touch me, the next, my heart was somehow beating outside my chest, exposed to the elements. loving you has been the most profound, intense, painful experiance of my life. In fact, it’s been almost too much to bear. as your father, I made a silent vow to protect you from the world, never realising I was the one who would end up hurting you the most. when I flash forward, my heart breaks. Mostly because I can’t imagine you speaking to me with any sort of pride. how could you? your father’s a child in a man’s body. he cares for nothing and everything at the same time. noble in thought, weak in action. something has to change. something has to give.
It’s getting dark, too dark to see. …