Those unfortunate (bastard) wild boys, trained too early and too easily that their goods were in demand that they could barter through life on looks and loving
Charm is their first line of defense Permanently on offense (still not in control) taking from others as was done to them The original biological weapon. This talent for assessing need and weakness This dark discernment working towards neither's good, A call to charms
Playing that designated role imprinted too young too mightily Be what they need Swallow yourself whole Manipulation is power or a passable facsimile thereof You exert bravado so we would never imagine the rift within
Friendship was once plentiful and capricious and effortlessly-obtained. More easily-maintained, not readily-destroyed. Sturdy and assumed, monolithic in proportion,
Now disappeared.
How fickle we became, somewhat automatically, it would seem, by age 30; jaded, old promises faded, the delicate tickle of time now furiously gripping and strangling.
Brutal recognition demanded, naivete stranded, all the tiny things become giant in the land of what-was-promised-to-be older and wiser.
Perspective works in reverse of what I'd imagined (Why should that deceit be any different from all other beliefs turned on their ears?) Awareness finds me much too late; the party is ended. (but it will still serve to find me home.) It takes a season (or three) to respect your own understanding, to stop selling out for a few laughs and to fill your nights with other-than-moderate common bonds (or, typically, none at all.) To determine that duplicity shown in front of you can also be anticipated once you depart, as well. That gossip snakes around your name-- that those pangs in your back are caused by more than exes' voodoo.
To no longer need 'somebody' or 'any body' to take you through the night's isolation... to make you feel complete, belonged to, part of, acclaimed, consistent, valiant, worthwhile, important, potent, loveable, desirable, relevant.
Instead, to forge your own happiness, and encourage your own brilliance; no need for half-hearted undercuts and overlooked slights, bland tolerance, or hearty indifference. Strive and perform and provide, and the more you do, it's expected of you; not appreciated, not accepted, not approved, not reciprocated, not considered. Merely bilked.
I reached a point where my capacity for bullshit and my tolerance for abuse was all used up. Something about 'looking in all the wrong places.'
