Faith in False Justice

I can NOT believe you had the nerve and impulse to tell me, “a relationship is built on trust.” From any credible person, that would have been an invaluable thing to say, but you’ve no clout, and you’ve no sense of justice. Your ideas are foolish, and your worldly logic is secondary. If you wanted me to start trusting you again, there’s only one thing you have to do. STOP letting other guys in your pants. Yes maybe they can charm their way into your cervix and tickle your brain with philosophy, but will they take care of you when you faint from malnutrition or have an anxiety episode where you start kicking and screaming at anyone within your immediate vicinity? You think they’ll forgive you when you seek shelter in another man’s arms as much as I have? I have been called lots of things, but unfair was never one of them.

I’m sure that if I did the same things you did, you’d be heavily hurt, but I just couldn’t do that to you. Do you know why? because if I stepped in your shoes, I’d immediately see an imbalance and stop myself before I do anything that would chip away at my soul. I did it once, when I was young, and I’m sorry. I truly am, but unlike you, I learned from my mistake. You continued to get revenge on me 5 or 6 times, and I still forgave you because of a false sense of justice I had. It seems sometimes I’m the only one with the sense of justice and I’m dishing out extra, just to cover your half of the bill. Don’t you dare ask me to trust you when the entire world and I know you don’t deserve it. Go play your Connect 4 in Hermosa Beach, and read your Carl Jung, whom opposes people like you. I kept a tab on you not to protect myself, but to protect you from yourself. But you’re psychologically blind as a bat and only focus on self preservation and vanity. What you make yourself see in the mirror is what the world see’s you as right? Wrong. In life, you make connections with people and through those connections, tiny surges of soul fluctuations fill them with a sense of your being. Your existence from what you portray and what you are, are contradictory, and everything you touch, you think turns to gold, Midas, but in the real world, withers.

I digress, you were trying to have a civilized conversation with me, yet your words were savage. I did nothing except ask and question whether or not you can finally stop sitting with your legs open. But I had no right to. Somehow I had no right to. Spirituality versus Logic. It’s a tough fight, but I’m fairly sure that even your own spirit wouldn’t fight for you. Now I question why I did in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong folks, I’m not a martyr of love. In fact, I might be one of the worst candidates. I get bored easily and I don’t give a hoot about how awesome all the other guys think you are. In fact I won’t spit a compliment at you if I’d never thought you deserved it. I’m not supportive if you have a fallout with someone close, and in most cases, I will agree with the other team, just because I don’t believe you’re right, Initially. I won’t wait up and waste sleepless nights on you wondering if you’ll call or text me back, I’ll assume you’re renting out your body to some guy with smoother words and higher cheekbones.

I’ve never been an interesting person, but I do get lucky quite often, and that means I’ve got stories to tell, but fuck you if you want me to tell you something about myself. Basically, I’m a fucking prick, but at least I understand equilibrium and would never do a thing simply to psychologically maim another person. The inhabitants of this planet have lost all clout with humanity, and I simply ask you to let your actions speak for your soul. Remember to fucking enunciate.

Portrait of a fucking dick.


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