She’s got daddy issues, she’s eager to please. Her daddy left when she was young and she has never been at peace. No masculine figure in her life, she sucks dick to appease. Rumor has it she blew the whole squad, got her on all fours like a quad. Insecure, void and empty, always looking for something to fill her, hard and phallic it fills her. Every man looking to fuck her, slut shame her. A pornstar in the making, her pubs are already trending, legs in the air but her confidence descending. That’s why she’s promiscuous cause every boy is an opportunity to get close to someone, she wants to be loved by someone, the attention validates her, it feels like she matters, reality sucks and confidence in tatters. So she’ll do whatever you like to please you, the pussy she will lease you, for free and include videos, knowing they will leak, her nudes are making rounds and are close to peak. Her self-worth is all yours to keep. She’s got daddy issues, I could get her to drop her panties and wrap her legs around my waist. Cum on her face or use protection to excrete the waste. A bit unstable, should come with a label. So easy and gullible, she thinks she’s unlovable, calls every man daddy. Men use her as a caddy, to store their seeds inside, only to contaminate the can and abandon the mission like a ban. She’s got daddy issues, easy to get her in the sack. Missionary style or blow out her back. Fuck her out in the deck, so everyone can see, issues deeper than a shipwreck at sea. She’s got daddy issues, her life is sad, you’ll need a tissue. All the men in her life are disappointments, the world is cold with no one to kiss you.
A man who has money is beauty for women just like how men look for beauty in women. Granted you wouldn’t marry a woman for her beauty but it sure helps. Money is attractive, money is intoxicating, it has the promise of fulfilling all your dreams. Visions of not having to struggle anymore, gracing balls wearing designer clothes burdened with sparkling diamonds that hang on your neck and wrists, driven in luxury and escorted by royalty. Which girl wouldn’t want to be Cinderella for a lifetime? This time the magic doesn’t dissipate, the clock keeps ticking, the fairy godmother on speed dial and the glass shoes keep on multiplying. Living in Mansions, walking on marble, oversighted by crystal chandeliers, swimming in heated pools and served by foreign butlers. There enters the Gold digger, the manifestation of every man’s fantasy. She represents a tunnel in the repressed subconscious mind. She fulfills you in every way you desire. She subjegates herself to you, granting you power. She soothes and fills what’s lacking in your life. She is your escape in a world were routine triumphs. She is exciting, new and forbidden, uses her body to make you yield into the temptation of her bosom. You can squeeze if you want to, that’s the whole point. She’s yours for a price. The esteem and prestige of being your wife, but no prenups. Also, she wants to be included in your will, a stake in the inheritance fund and half of everything you own and oh, she’ll get it all. Her cunning intelligence guarantees it. You are her gold mine and she’s not letting go. Unlike the typical woman who operates with the right hemisphere of her brain, she is a blend of both hemispheres, she is both feminine and masculine. She is not just a woman whose emotional and acts on her feelings, she thinks, she plans, uses reason and logic, she has drive, she is ambitious! You are the route to her Gucci and Louis Vuitton bags, bespoke designer clothes, red bottoms heels and summer vacations in Monaco.
It was difficult to defend against the Blitzkrieg attack because it enveloped the enemy and crushed it with great speed. It gave you no time to think, no space to move, you were crushed by the weight of the attack. The perfect gold digger is akin to a blitzkrieg attack. You’ll never see it coming, she will crush you and dispose of you faster than the speed of light. Great gold diggers will seduce you, play to the repressed qualities of your being, ascentuate their body features, lower the pitch of their voices, play the demsel in distress, regress to a childlike persona, dominate through passivity to sink their claws in, marry you for your money and then divorce you. They are the definition of deception and smokescreens, they disappear like an illusion, like a dream, like it never happened. After you it’s on to the next one. You have to admire gold diggers because they are ambitious, they are driven, they have will, they want a good life and you are a means to an end. Gold diggers have balls, what makes them great is their ability to tap into their masculine sides while maintaining their femininity. That ambition will get you everything in life. I would love to be a Hugh Hefner, a magnet for gold diggers. To be surrounded by young, hot, beautiful women and have the relationships be platonic and transactional, using my pool and walking around the house in nothing but their birthday suits, oh Hugh cracked the code, the Playboy Mansion is heaven!
In our modern world the word power seems to make people uncomfortable, it has negative connotations of greed, evil and corruption. It is undesirable and dirty and no one seems to want to admit to the world that they want power. We like to convince people and ourselves that we are saintly and good individuals who care for the well-being of others. We imagine that we are pure and we would never hurt or kill another person in cold blood, that it is always the other person who is the aggressor and not us. We deceive ourselves and repress this urge for power relegating it into the shadows. The truth is that everybody wants power. The world is one big power struggle, the clash of egos combating to be the alpha. Dominance, it keeps our blood boiling and we hunger for it like a starved prisoner. Standing over your body makes me feel good. I yearn to make you submit to my will and my point of view. Power is everything, it is control and persuasion. It sucks to not be able to persuade anybody, it makes you feel weak and not in control of the situation. You feel like a bystander, a passenger moving along with the wind blowing you away in every direction. It makes you feel like a victim of life. Power puts you in control, you become a creator, a God. A God, that’s what everybody secretly yearns to be. To have undisputed power and influence over everything and everyone. In pursuit of this untold power, life creates a Hitler and a Stalin. Because If God is a fabrication of the mind created to derive meaning in an absurd world then maybe I can fill that gap, I can be God and control peoples perception of reality. He won’t intervene because his not real, I am God now and I will prove it by starting Wars and conquering other nations. All is power and that’s the motivation for serial killers, to kill, plain and simple. Jeffery Dahmer murdered people for the power it gave him, it gave him a rush, it was intoxicating, he felt powerful knowing he separated your spirit from your body. He kept souvenirs, his victims skulls, skeletons and took pictures of the severed body parts to remind himself of the power he had over you. It was the same with Charles Manson, he had the power of persuasion, he recruited young girls to his cult and convinced them to commit horrendous crimes. If I live in your mind, I can convince you to slit somebody’s throat from ear to ear and that’s what Manson had, permanent residence in these girls minds, they revered him, going so far as calling him Jesus. Power is possession, it is psychological, it is forceful, it is desirable. If I have power over you, I can do whatever I like. The denial of the desirability of power leads to slavery because the shadow has taken control of you, your undesirable impulses and urges needs an outlet and so you disregard my right to life as a human being to justify your repressions, so you humiliate me, break me down, vilify me to feed the beast that has taken control of you. You don’t even feel bad about it because you are a good church going Christian who believes in community and doing the right thing.
Power, you have to be aware of the laws to get to the pinnacle. The victims of Jeffery Dahmer had one thing in common – they took the free lunch. Maybe Dahmer was charming and charismatic, it would certainly explain how he lured them to his place, but if someone offers you a big paycheck for something menial then that’s a red flag because they are after your soul. That’s how Harvey Weinstein comes into the picture. “Suck my dick and you will get the part. Come on, every young actress sucked dick to get to the top”. You suck his dick and there’s no coming back, his got power over you. He lives in your head rent-free. Worse is that you need this, you a nobody and his a Billionaire who controls Hollywood. What you gonna do? It’s easy to despise the free lunch when you are not hungry. If you depend upon your own arms, you stay hungry for a while maybe for a long time but you have your power and it accumulates. Who knows, maybe in a couple of years you become a big player in the game. Power, you need to delay gratification to attain it. Sucking executives dicks will only make you a pawn. Elizabeth Holmes played the game of power beautifully. She was charismatic and magnetic. Used theatricalies and fed peoples need to believe. She modeled herself after her hero Steve Jobs by embodying his spirit. She wore the type of clothes Steve Jobs wore, copied his mannerisms and how he used to present his products to the world. Investors thought that she was the next Steve Jobs, they saw Steve Jobs reincarnated. They gave her millions for her company. They fell in love with her. She graced the covers of top magazines like Forbes and Fortune. She was labeled a genius and an innovator despite the fact that she hadn’t produced anything revolutionary. Everyone mistook appearances for reality. Her company Theranos was a hoax. She deceived everyone to get to the very top, meeting world leaders and presidents in the process.
Like on The Godfather, power like war is deception, never let anyone know what you are thinking and you hold all the cards. That’s where Santino Corleone got it wrong, by revealing what he thought he compromised the family, he showed Sollozzo that the Corleone family were not united in the decision to not operate in the narcotics business and Barzini took advantage. Power is double standards and smoke screens and Barzini played the game beautifully by keeping his hands clean and getting Sollozzo and Tattaglia to do the job for him while he sat on the sidelines and pulled the strings. Santinos mistake nearly cost the family everything, it was through the grace of God that Don Vito Corleone survived that hit. Power is getting people to play the cards that you deal. Power is cunning and deceitful. Power is concealing your intentions, like Heyman Roth pretending to be an alliance for Micheal Corloene while at the same time plotting his death. Power is crushing your enemy totally like when Michael Corloene assassinated the heads of the five criminal bosses all at once to cement his power at the helm. Power is power, it deserves its negative connotations.
Monsters lurk everywhere in the world and it’s hard to spot them. They have learned to camouflage themselves in the darkness, it engulfs and consumes them, blackening their souls turning them into shadows. Analytical Psychologist Carl Jung explains that human beings carry within themselves both elements of the good and bad, that we are both angels and demons, sick, demented, evil, dark, spoiled. Because we live in a world where we have to co-exist to survive, we surpress these undesirable qualities relegating them into the shadows. Unchecked the shadow can grow to consume our personality and rule our subconscious minds enabling us to act unconsciously. Our shadows can turn us into psychopaths who lack empathy and thrive on destruction. The shadow can enable the individual to be narcissistic, egoistic and maniacal. Shedding a light on our dark sides helps in controlling the shadow. Acknowledging you have a dark side keeps the shadow at bay. Life is a balance of both the good and bad, of the light and the darkness. We are both polar extremes of the same spectrum. You are a killer and a murderer, human nature says you are. You might find pleasure in murdering your brother in cold blood. Cain certainly did when he murdered his brother Able to spite God. The murder was premeditated, he felt no remorse, the action liberated him. I know I am bad, I am capable of savagery and genocide. I may even take pleasure in torturing and tormenting you to appease my dark side. Your suffering might even give me comfort. Am I another Jeffrey Dahmer? Would I drug you, strangle you to death, masterbate over your body, have sex with your unconscious body, dissect and sever your body parts, skin the flesh from your bones, cook and eat your body parts for dinner? The capacity for evil in a human being is unfathomable. Maybe I am not familiar with my own darkness. I don’t know what I might do to you in the right circumstances. The story of Jeffrey Dahmer haunts me because he did it time and time again. A serial killer with a death toll of 17. No one was safe, from boys aged 14 to adults aged 33. He butchered his victims, cut off their limbs, drilled holes in their skulls and injected hydrochloric acid, severed their heads and preserved them in the refrigerator, inserted the bones in the oven to burn them and then crushed them with his sledgehammer, he cut his victims into pieces and then boiled them, he cooked his victims and he ate them, he ate them! He used acid and other chemicals to burn the skin of his victims skulls to preserve them. He bleached the skulls and if they were too weak he pulverized them, some he kept and used when he was masterbating. He felt no remorse, it was a compulsion for him, he was conscious of his actions, he knew what he was doing, he wasn’t crazy or diagnosed with some sort of mental illness, he consciously experimented with his victims bodies in his own words to create zombies, he loved doing it, it was his vocation. I don’t want to believe that I am as wicked and evil as Dahmer but I know it’s possible. To deny this is to repress my own darkness and wickedness. To know I am capable of such darkness frightens me. I hope Jung and Freud have an answer for somebody like Dahmer. Maybe it is the ID out of control. Sigmund Freud explained that the ID is the seat of both the repressed material and the drives, to which had been added to the unconscious fantasies and unconscious feelings, notably guilt feelings. Expanding on this idea, Freud states that the mind is divided into 3; into what we call the ID, Ego and the Superego. The Superego is the watchful, judging, punishing agency in the individual. The ID is self-gratifying and amoral and the Ego is the middle ground of the two and strives to be moral. I don’t think Freud and Jung would understand an individual quite as complicated as Dahmer, to try and understand somebody like Dahmer is impossible. I mean he seduced and lured his victims to his place, drugged them, killed them, cut them and sat with the stench of their decomposing bodies. The smell was second nature to him. Sometimes psychology is not enough, perhaps this is a genetic thing, maybe his the exception in the family tree. When he was finally caught he didn’t resist, he was compliant and told the whole truth, every horrific detail, where he hid body parts, how many he had killed, the hearts, biceps, legs he ate, when the killing spree commenced – everything. He knew what he had done was evil and he asked for the death penalty that was not granted because it was banned in his State. He was accepting of who he was, he was not bothered, he was not haunted by ghosts and demons, he was not remorseful, he even had fans who corresponded with him in jail, fans who projected onto him their undesirable feelings, desires and fantasies and he reciprocated back that energy. Jeffrey Dahmer is your definitive example of a monster, he scares me. Maybe I am just scared of myself.
The second day and the program was still on fire. We started the day with a Pan African workshop. Led by Zandi Radebe, we discussed what it meant to be African, how it extends to township life, how we relate to each other, the contrast in life pre-democracy and post-democracy, how we can be better as Africans and the morals and traditions lost along the way. The program explored the ideas of Marcus Garvey and what Pan-Africanism meant to him. In essence, it must start with me, then we before it can extend to us, to fill-up yourself first and then fill up the cups of others with the excess water overflowing from your cup. It was a thought-provoking workshop and ideas bounced. Participants in the audience shared their wisdom and ideas, we shared our perspectives and what “Pan African” meant to us. Then we arrived at my favorite part of the workshop, we discussed poetry and words with Lesego Rampolokeng. We talked about form, structures and types of poetry, how poetry is not necessarily a reflection of life because it hinders the perspective of the artist to experience but rather a distillation. Poetry is an expression of one’s intrinsic nature, it is an expression of individuation, if its truthful, it comes from inside and has a unique voice, not copy and paste from somebody else’s work, it has to be authentically you because you can’t be anybody else. We read and explored some of Lesego’s favorite authors and a member of the audience shared her poetry with the workshop to listen to. It was an interactive workshop and we got to get inside of the mind of a true wordsmith who explained all of his work comes from love. I was inspired by that remark because I understand. Although my work comes from multiple sources, love yes, but anger, spite, pain, sometimes hate and disappointment too, I transmute that to create my art. Maybe artists are a miserable bunch. To show, to feel, to distill life in word form, that’s poetry – it’s not about form or structure of language.
We ended the day with an excellent Zimbabwe play titled “Molly’s Street”. The play follows Molly who escapes child marriage and arrives in Chiredzi southern Zimbabwe. Young and unskilled, Molly becomes a sex worker. Sadly, not long after her arrival her boyfriend murders her. Powerful show that depicts the perils of GBV. Rape, abortion, sex, violence and murder, it’s difficult to watch. We need to protect our girl children. The depiction of Molly’s life is unflinchingly raw and honest. The words are descriptive and emotive. A perfect blend of showing and telling. The show is dramatic and the performance out of this world. Zimbabwean actress Chidochangu Jo Anne Tenga inhabits the world of Molly. She inhabits her psychology, she feels the sensations of her world, understands her struggles, feels her pain, she is totally one with her spirit. The performance is inspired, pure excellence, an example of world class theatre. She is perfect with that performance, how she moves on the stage, her voice intonations, her facial expressions and the emotion in her words. Patrick Tenga compliments the story with sound effects and the general score of the play. He uses drums, percussions and strings. The end result is mezmarrizing theatre. The story is thought-provoking and reflects back socioeconomic factors plauging our communities, Hunger, poverty, aggression, pain, self-hate, hurt, toxic masculinity, GBV, prostitution, abortion, sex and a lack of role models to carve out a better path for coming generations. It’s an important story. Congratulations to Peter Churu for a great show and a deserved standing ovation.
I was at Inaugural Kaza Kamza Pan African Theatre Festival, a workshop hosted by the Market Theatre, 14 – 17 November 2024. It is a workshop that commemorates and celebrated everything Africa. It explored the stories of African people, their heritage, their struggles, their art. It was a wonderful workshop, it was rich in its content, it is diverse and came from all over Africa, it is informative and in some cases down right heartbreaking. Europeans have never been our friends, it’s shocking how they colonized our people and weaponized the Bible to take everything from us. It’s unfair how their offsprings are getting richer from our resources while our people inherit poverty. They own the land where our people reside, rule over it, profit over it while they live in their own countries. The film “Skulls of my people” by Vincent Moloi broke my heart. It details the Namibian genocide that transpired from 1904-1907 by the Germans in which 110000 people were murdered pending an extermination order – the first colonized inspired genocide in history. Adolf Hitler studied and learned from the Namibian genocide to implement with the Halocaust. Over 80000 Herero people were murdered and over 20000 Nama people were murdered, some fleed to neighboring countries. They were hanged, shot, decapitated and butchered like swine. Their women were raped and forced to peel off the skins of their dead husband’s skulls so they can be shipped off to Germany for their art galleries and museums. Some 111 years later, the Germans recognise the genocide but won’t apologize and pay for reparations. To engage in dialogue was difficult, they are arrogant, they don’t feel remorseful for the pain of the Namibian people, they just don’t care. “Skulls of my people” seeks to get back the skulls of the Namibian people from the German people.
Not everything was gloomy, there was also a workshop about how stories are told in Botswana by Tefo Paya and Thabang Lelefe. The unique fusion of traditional sounds and rhythm with a modern contemporary voice. The workshop was intimate and powerful. We were in a semi-circle surrounding the two instructors. They are amazing artists, they showed us their crafts by embodying it, performing it, they brought their unique instruments along and shared how they were made, revealed the inspiration behind their works and chronicled life in Botswana. It was the perfect way to start off the program.
We ended off the first day with music by MoRa, one of the best concerts I have ever been to. Poet Lesego Rampolokeng is unbelievable. I am envious how he works his words, he is a wizard, a wordsmith, he is descriptive, creates imagery, rhymes, tells stories, critiques, wity and comical. He tells African stories, our stories about African people and the Jazz music is just exquisite. He is backed-up by an amazing ensemble, Drummer Tumi Mogorosi, Vocals, Cecilia Phetoe, Sibongile Mollo and Themba Maseko, Dalisu Ndlazi (Tuba) Lebogang Komane (Trumpet) and Gontse Makhene (Percussion). It was a satisfying way to end the day.
My son got born earlier in the morning and I am ecstatic. He is a gift from my ancestors and the Universe. I treasure him. He is my gold in a world that’s been digitized; valuable, tangible, priceless. It’s like falling in love for the first time, I am in la, la, land, heaven, a place of pure bliss devoid of the construct of time. I’ve never felt love quite like this, it’s like I am floating on butterflies through the clouds of the light blue sky. He makes me believe in miracles. There is a God, – he is proof, a blessing. I am thankful and grateful for this opportunity. I will teach him everything I know with an open heart and a lot of love. I will guide him. Help strengthen him to make sure he is the great man destiny intended. I’ll teach him about business and wealth creation. I was lucky I was broke and built an empire out of nothing. Being broke is experiencing your own mortality, it is being vulnerable and helpless to effect change or influence outside stimuli, that’s why I worked so hard to be rich, to have the illusion of immortality, to be invincible. You’ll be invincible from the start, girls are going to be sending you pictures captioned “you could tear this up”- I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. I’ll teach him about the importance of having an inner scorecard and not one based on external factors. Don’t claim to be anyone you’re not. Love yourself unconditionally. Respect everyone and beware of placing too much value on material things because they end up owning you, depriving you of your peace and happiness. When you say you are going to do something, do it, no excuses, be a man of your word my son. I’ll teach him about girls and women. True, they are an enigma and I don’t know much about their motivations and thought patterns. They are truly a strange species, unpredictable, highly volitile, sometimes unstable, frightening and devastating like a natural disaster. They are difficult to assess and understand, maybe they really are from Venus and us from Mars, it would certainly explain why it’s inhospitable for man; too much chaos presided, women can’t co-exist with one another and I don’t mean to boast but man is returning to Mars. Mars is a great place filled giant screens that showcase football and other sports daily, the home of Elon Musk, Richard Branson and Jeff Bezos, a place of sport cars and super sleek, fast Teslas, pool tables, infinite alcohol and drugs, no tough decisions, no responsibilities and no circumstances. A place of Goodfellas like Scorsese and De Niro but no death, just collaboration, a brotherhood and positive energy.
But in planet Earth, women are useful as you will soon experience. For one they register and process large quantities of data faster and more efficiently. This is important in the matters of life and death, you need a strong counsel. The trick is just to love and accept them as they are, don’t try to understand them or assert your will on them, understand that disaster might strike at anytime and accept reality for what it is – I think that’s what God intended. Just love them because even with all their uncertainties, they are the most valuable species in the whole Universe, they make life worthwhile, they are the nurturers of life. I’ll give you all the information I’ve attained from my interactions with them. I suggest you seek consultation from other wise men who will also share their experiences and knowledge, this will give you a more wholistic picture. I can’t guarantee concise data regarding women my son, no man can, we are from Mars and they are from Venus.
Of course, there’s this issue of the Oedipus Complex. I suspect there will be some hostility between me and you. You want to possess your mother (my woman) and you are rightly entitled to her. I won’t oppose you son, for the first few months, she is all yours. I will refrain from all acts of jealousy. I know you will appreciate those tits more than anything in the world. Your father is a genius, a visionary and I chose those tits for you. I qualified and discarded a lot of applicants for you to have those perfect tits. That’s my early gift to you because I love you so much. Enjoy them, take your time, don’t rush to get old, drive slow and enjoy the scenery and sensations. Those are our tits, my son, at least for now.
I satisfied 3 women this month, it’s been a good month. I worked hard, I deserve all the acclaim. Of course it could be hot air, women fake all the time. A woman friend of mine spilled the beans and notified me she was faking when we were together. All the moans and groans were an act, she was faking her orgasms. Worse is that I thought I gave a good account of myself, when she broke the news I was devastated because everything was predicated on that moment. It made me think of how many women were faking when were together. She doesn’t even want to give me another chance to redeem myself. She says it would be weird and would ruin our friendship. Disappointing analysis, when has sex ever ruined a good thing? Ironically, not having sex is what will ruin our relationship. Cause right now I am all insecure and I need some feedback, I know I could do better, time has elapsed and I have experience under my belt, the act of lovemaking has become an art, I could make her orgasm and it won’t be an act. I hate it, it’s like she’s got weight over me, she’s got control and power, says she was sparing my feelings and boosting my confidence, how emasculating is that? I’d rather she lay in bed a mute, at least I’d know I wasn’t doing shit. But the faking, the deception, that’s unforgivable! I feel like my whole life is a lie. Still I doubt it, I’d know if she were faking, I mean, what am I a moron? I know myself, I am industrious, I work hard, I don’t believe it, she sang high notes. Being stoic is good and all but women talk, the grapevine is a dangerous place for a bachelor. I don’t think I am crap but I need a second chance to redeem myself. I could do better, I need more raving reviews. We can make it transactional, it doesn’t need to mean anything, I am enlightened, I pay attention, I can deliver a cascade of orgasms, I can prove it, I have 3 happy reviews and it’s midway through the month. I need my second chance or we won’t survive as friends.
Everything I am I learned from the streets, I learned to keep my head down to feel the pulse and listen to the beat. To narrow the circumference of my circle to ensure I live through more cycles. Moving through culture like Armstrong on his bicycle. I am consciousness, taking care of the game like a nurse, spoonfeeding invalids to fatten my purse, living through the spells to break down the curse. I am the greatest of all time, the conscious Idiot, emphatic, compassionate, unassuming but also ready to leave you fuming, some niggas be pests, so I terminate cause talking is time consuming. Usually a cool guy but if you get on my face, I’ll push you aside like you nothing to me. Haters think they are important when they mean nothing to me. Conscious Idiot, I ain’t got beef with anyone, I am just living my life. If you stepped on my shoe I’d probably apologize, it ain’t worth it to get in a fistfight with someone who has nothing to lose, I am pretty, my face is my livelihood. I grew up in the hood, gunfights are generally not good, so I avoid like an anorexic with food. Conscious Idiot, you can have the glory, I am leaving with the honey with the fantastic body. Trying to get me to react but sorry, you are not a character in my story. Conscious Idiot, emphatic, compassionate, kind and unassuming but it ain’t a weakness cause I deliver receipts like a cashier working back to back shifts whose sleepless.
The human experience is such a comedy but also a tragedy at the same time. You mean we are not in control of who we love? That secretly the Universe and all the forces of this planet conspire and decide my fate? The arrogance in that notion – it makes me sick! Just maybe everything in the world has already been done and I have to be allocated in a category. Apparently a category has already been assigned to me. Does it mean I am already in a box? Confined and blinded by my restrictions. This can’t be life – there has to be more. Maybe this could be a simulated reality. I now find the subject of love vague and grey. If we subconsciously project our experiences as young individuals originating from our childhood and parents to our partners – Isn’t love predictable, with a pattern? I feel my life is a performing stock option projected to do well in the coming years. I feel life is channeled. I feel everybody lied to me. I feel betrayed. Like love is rigged and fixed. You mean there are more people like me who fell in love because of projections and repressed subconscious desires. Are you saying I am the problem? But I am different.
In that case I hate love. It doesn’t make sense and I renounce life as well. How are conflicting feelings or ideas possible with love? Why are we so obsessive? Are we the ones in our bodies because sometimes I feel possessed by an overwhelming spirit that does what it wants? Is it even real? What’s real? I don’t know. I don’t understand how a mature and practical adult can regress to behavior seen as childish because of love. I don’t understand how someone can be fearful of being alone. I don’t understand why love makes us such bad judges of characters. Why are we willingly blind? I don’t understand why we mistake a narcissist for a genius, the suffocator for a nurturer, the slacker for the exciting rebel and the control freak for the protector. Its madness and stupid. Maybe it makes sense that love stems from repressed unconscious desires; because then we can define it and try to examine and understand. In the game of love what is most repressed shines through – the irony in that statement. What a show! Love is clearly the undisputed champion of the world.
antakalipa 