Rogue's Blog

How can I begin this without being complicated? I've had this blog for a long assed time and I've never even written anything in it. Like a great man (Kinky Freedman) once said, "There's nothing like looking down at a blank piece of paper and realizing it's as empty as your life." My life isn't empty per se but I'm not sure that I should be here, in this life, in this picture, like I'm a puzzle piece that was just crammed in; made to fit somewhere I absolutely don't belong. Or maybe belonging is not belonging somewhere long enough to realize that you don't. I guess I'm writing this for a sense of self-gratification, so that I can look back and say I didn't turn away from that blank page, that I said my life was full of color and sound, of love, and passion. Just like music.

Music to me are the colors of ebony and ivory, and agile hands that stroke your heartsrings like chords, in an undieing rhythm with the beat of your heart. And every breath you breathe you breathe for that one chance that you can create again what your broken heart so ruthlessly destroyed. That raw truth that you were blinded from, before your world crumbled around you and you realized that loving someone is giving them the power to destroy you and trusting them not to.

In our life we make descisions. They are not based on what other people think or say, they are based on what we know, and what we feel would be best for us, in the event that the trust you instill in someone doesn't turn around and watch as they reopen those scars you thought you had so well mended. 

Women are fucking ruthless.

I know this because I was with one for half a year of my life. Lovers can turn against you just as easily as they turn with you. They use your own hand in pulling yourself apart, so that they feel nothing. I remember the first night I looked to the stars, and it was as though the sky was blind. Like the gods were playing such a cruel practical joke on me that I should've realized it by then, when I looked up and saw nothing but an inky black that pressed down on the very essence of my soul. I did not listen, I didn't use the blatant aid I found just then, to end it and say no more. 

But love has a way of making you fall countless times before you hit the ground and realize that they were never really catching you in the first place, they were just leaving you suspended like a marionette, wating for just the right moment  to cut the strings.