Making the Same Mistakes: TWICE

AND THEN LEARNING TO DO AND BE BETTER

I am somewhat furious. To say the least. I don’t know how to frame this and how to even talk about this without some fury. I had a friend, a childhood friend, who I used to get along great with. But it seems, whenever things get a bit messy in her life, she has this tendency to blow up on me. And abandon me. In the worst possible times in my life. I do not know how even to understand what is going on with her. First moment, she asks advice from me: I tell her a dude she is interested in isn’t always treating her fairly but since she has a connection with him, and since he is polyamorous, why not just talk it out with him? Tell him, you want a deeper thing.

And recently, she is going the self-saboteur path of contacting her former best friend. Why? — The fuck I know. She decided to not talk this woman for three years, block her as they had a row and then finally thinks things will change between them because she is more successful in life. Hard Truth: she didn’t. We both agreed that you two are always on different life paths and that she does not even understand or care for your achievements. But does that stop my friend from wanting validation from this chick, who also a mutual childhood friend of ours (though I know her longer), who never has given a shit about her? NO. The chick goes back to shit she cares about — dating, marriage and possible partners. Not about any other kinds of success. Which, she seems to me, pisses my friend off more. Because she hadn’t full on dated in a while aside this new polyamorous dude she is kinda dating.

Of course, she will be pissed that polyamorous guy wants to keep his options open. Wants to keep his French girlfriend and like not full-on date my friend. Well, what did you expect? He is polyamorous. And, he has been polyamorous for ten years of his life. Now, he MAY change his mind and make you solid, but that is gonna take time. For 2 weeks she has been pissed that this guy stated: “I already have my primary; maybe, you will be my secondary.”

Translation: He is being and asshole. Like, seriously, you don’t talk like this with someone who is not used to p[olyamorous dating. And also, I personally think, if she was his secondary, the primary girlfriend needs to know he has a 2nd steady girlfriend somewhere else. Those are the rules. But it is NOT seemingly happening like that. She and the guy are smitten but she wants them to be exclusive. But she is not telling him this. She rather run away than face her fears. She was wanting to become invisible, without saying anything. This dude keeps on following her FB as in, if she makes minor changes, a slight PFP change, he ‘likes’ it immediately. Imagine what he would do in her Insta?

I wanted to be fair. I said, hey, don’t do that. Clearly, you like one another. Clearly, you want something with this dude, so why not just say it? Hey, say I like you and that can we be exclusive? Anyways, she gets pissed at me just because I say I am not like her former best friend and would ‘steal’ her guy. Dude, until that day I did not even know what he looked like. AND I just said it with a context. She was showing me her current’s beau’s ex-girlfriends and current girlfriend AND we both agreed one of his hook ups were super hot looking. Now, I said I liked that girl’s style. But seeing she was feeling insecure, which was plainly obvious, I just said that to assure her.

And, what does she do? Yell at me because she cannot yell at the guy she is somewhat dating. Calls me ‘dumb’ — says she is better than me in many ways. Now, seeing that she is doing better financially than me at the moment, this stung. I told her it is not fair to compare. And she was calling me ‘mean’ saying so what if her ex-bestie stole a guy she liked, she had so many other achievements. The fucked up thing is I always celebrate her achievements. I was telling her don’t listen to her ex-bestie, don’t make her feel you down, just know you are awesome and matter in the here and now.

She was feeling bad and we had to hang up. But then after five I called her again. Said sorry more times, even acknowledged maybe I was being dumb (you can imagine this is a BIG thing to do) and then I joked with her and made her laugh so that she didn’t go to bed unhappy. Then the next day, I sent her messages and tried to make her happy by asking how she was and gave her two Emily Dickinson poems about strength , love and friendship.

She proceeds to keep on calling me ‘dumb’ — when I ask why is she doing this? She has the audacity to reply that she is doing this because she has been so nice and good to others so people take advantage of her. So, now, she will be mean and she is practicing on me. Like WTF dude? You are not nice or considerate. You are selfish and really arrogant and reckless and I am so pissed that you are like this that you think you can call me ‘dumb’ so many times and get away with it. Like, seriously, if you weren’t my childhood friend, I would have grilled your head in. Then she is like, we shouldn’t be good friends anymore, I ‘inject’ her with ‘negativity’, even unintentionally, and she wants to be happy.

Like seriously? Where have I been ‘triggering’, ‘negative’ and ‘mean’ — she did this one before and called me ‘toxic’ and then came back saying sorry back at the end of 2019. Like, what the fuck is her deal? It is not my fault babe if polymamorous dude doesn’t wanna make you exclusive. It’s not like I sucked his dick and told him not to date you. He just doesn’t wanna date you fully. Maybe, he is just not that into you. And, that has NOTHING to do with you. But if you think you can blow up on me again just ’cause you are going through a shitty time in your life again. FUCK OFF

Seriously, fuck off. It takes a lot of energy and focus and love, to listen to someone rant but also get sad and mad. But we do it because we love people. We wish to support them and value them. Show them they are not alone in any struggle they are facing. And, like we wish to be valued as well. We want to be acknowledged and loved in return. Love has to be mutual and respect is mandatory. Why should we not care and respect each other? This is the bare minimum in any kind of relationship.

It was then and there, I decided to block her. I have had enough of this sort of abysmal level of friendship — where like some weird pet, you are only asked to make someone happy. As if happiness is always guaranteed, always an aspiration in life, without any struggle or any hurdle or any challenge. Like, we are two different people, we can definitely NOT get each other at times. And, one time, I make a mistake, fail to get you, and you just blow up at me. For all the times I did not get you, there were so MANY MORE where I did get you. Comforted you, consoled you, loved and supported you as my friend. And, if that is not a convincing argument then NOTHING EVER will be. You cannot be a perfect friend automaton to someone. You need to be a person. And, a person can sometimes fail. But in that failure, you can rise up stronger and better, know your mistakes, aim to do better and be better. I given her the chance to do that and again she threw our friendship at my face.

I don’t wanna settle for less really. I am a person who has some value. Yes, I am feeling more isolated and alone now. COVID19 didn’t make anything else easy. But when someone decides to be an ass to you during a pandemic, you can actually measure what sort of person they are. When people are at such stakes and decide not to show compassion, mercy or even basic level understanding it actually tells more about them than you. I am tired of loving so unconditionally than I become unconditionally erased.

I do not wish to do that anymore. If she comes back again, apologises again. I may forgive but I will NEVER forget and this intimacy won’t be hers anymore. There is this boundary, my Mom said, which she crossed and you know what? That water sunk that bridge. I don’t wanna be around for the next breakdown and the next episode of being a bitch, because it is now clearer to me more than ever that she was being this wholesome cunt and I am not gonna enable that behaviour anymore.

If friendship always meant happiness then we would never need the intimate, the messy, the feelings of rage, hate and love and the salve that bound people thicker than blood and more soothing than water.

everyday sighs

Why am I sad? Because I wish to exist
in the microcosms of ordinary pleasures
where the everyday is not passaged by
the parties of food and wine. Where I know
a quite labour of reading your fine mouth
over a cup of coffee and the satin taste of tea

I do not belong but I am no imposter
I am no fugitive but I refuge behind clouds
no venegeful storm but I carry water

I do not profess to know anything other
than the incomplete dictionary of me
will you meet me behind the sphyx layered
of time and travel?—

beauty in you

I will bridge you with the birch
between our tongues; cloister
my speech as though it was
a language you know and I toast
yours as my own.

lexicon our saliva and nodes
and finger my spine with yours
do you see the wetting of my eyes
do you know how to rotate yourself?
The slickness of appetite
rouses up in my belly
and throat

which offers itself as cups to drink
do not mistake this as obedience
and I will not mistake yours
as entropy.

Tied to the larynx
met with the hungry mouth
of dialogues as the sexes unite
an acrhway cathedrals its way up
towers its way down and the minarets
lay the tone.

coupled in between our lashes
we kiss uncontrollably.—

potential of a memory

in the light of the sun through a window; sized medium, shutters green-slight
it slits on the top; reminds me of old cameras — yet what it records?
life inside or outside? Both? I am soaked by the frame. It’s reference —
a sketch. I am tidying my short hair, happily cut for the occassion
of living alone. Less stress. More eloquence. Like a few short words.
Written on some wall. Engraved on some tree. I feel the sun on my face,
on my naked neck as I blow dry hair. I am getting better at this.

There is a still stubbornness of my locks. They wave and curl; they
are not straight. Cannot be straightened. My androgyne reifies in my retina
in the crown of keratin. I should be pleased. I am. Now. Then, the act of hair
wavy yet immaculate makes me feel bliss. Kiss of warmth of sun and an apparel
for my hair. I feel my blood rise with Moca. Another warmth. Walking on
Stone pavements with my tousled hair and packed bag with coffee.

Loving the feeling of boots clicking on the pebble. Loving the motion
of walking — just walking. Feeling the independence of legs, of locomotion
— I am a being of hyperactivity — my hair flows out even with a hairband
and my clothes are loose and casual. Too casual. Like no metrosexual touch
upon me. No sense of the feminine fashionista. I still need potential for that.

yet my hair, the window and the walking are all potentials
these radicals of being that I didn’t think of always
when breathing winter’s air back in my native land in my youth
crisp tongued with a promise only realising 16 years later
like some sixteenth birthday come after

I study the leaves. I think of the hours I may browse the net
Study the contents of my books. Wait for the shipment of texts
to arrive in packages. Another potential.

my movement gains a stride; slight equations that make me feel complete.▬

song in rain

the rain drank the sun; the day fingers a grey-dark ceremonial
like some ritualistic garb, aiming for some funereal demonstration
or a pilgrimage set in marble and the edification of a time forged
in multidimensional pathways — subtle yet interesting

the rain drank the sun yet her thirst not quenched
the satisfaction was not only in the light serein
gales and winds blew; night was hallowed with light
from the flames of thunders and the pools of lightnings

— there came an ocean; inverted but also sensuously foamed
Venus was birthed in foams, pearls and the oyster carapace
like that of the turtles that support the world — mythos mixes
like a fine precipitate in the analogies of extraction

from the foam of lust and love came the armour of the one sheathed
and daggered; your love was not merely a hypothesis
it was a dissertation written in rain
and what writ in water is eaten by the earth and evolves; never dies.▬

night tremors

there is a discord in my veins
when I can’t sleep at night
when I feel that the darkness is
equivalence to my solemnity
but also the rhapsody of my prayers

there is nothing to shy away from the day
only insubordinate time with its longings
and unkept wishes; I can’t garden time
though I wish I could kill its weeds
gently and feel it snap at the touch of my fingers
these fingers hungry for some communion
with the diary of dreams and the origami
of sensuality nipped lightly by the logic
of the moon in parallels with the stars.—

crashing on boredom

What is this feeling we call boredom?
— was it always a paradox?
should be; life is in the roots
in the air — zigzagging between the nodes
in some membranous digits
and some pockets
the chemistry of boredom can only be measured
when you have really lived; or vicariously searched
through the folders of lives in some others’ kitchens
— the image, the simulacrum — those bread crumbs
that led you to some candied house — were you some
anorexic dandy fidgeting on some other street
tiptoeing through the woods
and the urban sprawls
you seem like a nightingale; singing some memory
of a future. Your posterity begins, when you fold boredom
and piecemeal it with the wings — you know you are borne
and bound to take off — outside yourself and inside yourself
ennui is a happenstance; struggle the happiness.▬

a scratch by a purr

there is a sensation in my bones
a chirping of molecules like crickets
fastened into my mouth and throat
like some oral fixation

feel myself moving like thuds in the attic
a ghost of a heartbeat manifesting
in poltergeist steroids of adrenalin and noise

I was flesh before I was matter
I was wind before I was echo
throating my whines and neighs and snarls and howls
making the most decisive decision
to not mute my speech.

when I cannot sleep

I cannot sleep; the dust of it rounds my eyes
into separate spheres, a sea in each
dipping night’s ink like a chance of lead
into the silvery apparition of a reflected moon
cradled between the sinews of a hammocked brain

there is a long sigh, a long echo — followed slowly by a song
tethering is a lullaby in glades of sun and shadow
day hinged and riveted like a solarnaut in crucial voyages

and my mind sits there, ancient, stubborn — like a shard of shell
fossilised and unmoving, indifferent to the throes of sleep
and voyeuring on the agonies of silence.

I know I wasn’t a tragedy; I knew it seemed so
after the hallways laughed menacingly
and the bells that chimed once in my favour
grew to sand in some lothario’s hourglass of moves
glued to the stationary casket of time in motion
faster than sound and faster than quantum

it aches my head and bones; not my heart
she flutters still like some newborn butterfly
doing her pilgrimage of movements, she never tires
when I do — there lies the problem and the sanity.
I am sleek with the covers, I am armed with the pillows
salient are my eyebrows playing tic-tac with particles of skin
and the dreams that are coiling to these feathery antennas

I will sleep soon
then wake to conquer the seeming
unconquerable
for I am too
a shade of moon
encased in an hourglass of night
measured stably by a rush of adrenalin
in a spoon of reverberations.—