When describing my feelings about the future of my newest love affair, I envision myself at the threshold of a glass mansion, representative of all the possibilities that I could calculate with this man. I see myself standing at the front door, staring into all of the rooms, the twists, the turns, the art, the love, & most of all, the highly dangerous confinement. I see both the beauty of a sunny day in a crystal castle and the immediate and torturous death if a crack was to form in any portion of our glass walls.
That is how I see monogamy.
As a crystal mansion with as much beauty as there is danger.
I am not afraid for myself, I am afraid for him.
But even in saying that I acknowledge that I’m letting the mistaken presumptions of the men before him cast a shadow on the fresh perspective this connection has fostered.
To be frank, my first vision of the danger of this glass mansion was the sight of myself, bloodied, screaming and scarred in the middle of the wreckage. I am generally far less concerned about how he could feel pain because I know in my heart & my vagina that if I am loved the way I desire, I tend to naturally fall into the motions of entertaining only the one man, I know of myself in love & it is not a person who could cause harm.
When I am happy and satisfied? When disillusion has stayed far from the confines of our glass home, I have no actual desire to stray.
I have no need to.
I instead use my love & my peace to terrorise the men who natural selection would not have me entertain to such a degree. It’s unfortunate how many men I have loved who were simply not tall enough to continue riding this ride.
I enjoy saying no, I enjoy laying in his arms instead, and I enjoy yearning for him when surrounded by former options.
I’m an instinctive romantic & I dive deep into the confines of any serious connection if I feel safe enough to and I enjoy showing off the spoils of my treasured dives.
He makes me feel like a siren, I see him as a stranded sailor, sitting on the beach, watching the siren and crocodile who both stranded & saved him. His love is the water I swim in, the water I hunt in. The food I find I use to feed him, to keep him beautiful, alive with wonder & contentment. The beach he sits upon rests on an island, representative of reality and stability. I swim close to him, relishing the intoxicating currents of love, he reaches out from the shore to cup my face, with that totally pleased smile I remember with so much glee, I kiss his hand, & I pull him under.
I teach him how to breathe with me, in the love we have created.
Then we become our own.
Then we stay our own.
I woke up to complete silence this morning.
A comfort I didn’t even know I’d missed. I’m endeavouring to take more control of my day to day life and fill it with the things that both distracted me and made me a better person. Examples of such, are writing and reading to my minds delight.
I have been consumed by the industry and I had forgotten to nurture the things that make me such a formidable opponent. As fresh as this beginning is, I have hope in it’s continuation, knowing that the depth of the matter is only held in the depth of my ambition.
If I am to be a being of duality I must not neglect any portion of myself in favour of the other.
So I must indulge in my slight addiction to reality television, while keeping up with my mint studies of alchemy, because that’s the person I am and the person I love to be.
My desires are changing and finalizing, I feel as though I am moving into a sort of golden age within the discoveries of what and who I want in my life.
& how I want them all to be placed.
I look forward to being the woman all this change will make me become.
The woman I once was, but better, stronger, older, and smarter.
I look forward to being more desirable as well, to smiting the souls of men who dare to think us equal, I will decimate them with my glory, have them begging for my mercy, I will disembowel them with my magnificence and they shall drown in ill timed regret as sanctioned by God.
I hesitated writing that sentiment down because I do not like to think that my motivations include flexing on the mandem, but there are certain things I was simply, born, to do.
& reign in terrifying glory is at the top of the list.
I want to be known as Frank “The One Who Got Away” Selasie.
That’s my favoured romantic character, the one who chose to walk away because she was far more intoxicated in the change of life than she was in the face value of youthful blinding love.
Or the one who chose to walk away because she understood that a man sightless of his own being would never be able to comprehend the complexities of her’s.
Or the one who chose to walk away because his lack of height was never worth the aesthetic sacrifice.
Natural selection is a bitch.
Measuring who and what is important and sticking to raising the standard of your own method of living.
I have been in the midst of a war I did not know was being waged against my person, my enemy in this epic battle is the cunning and manipulative magic known as empathy. I have found that too much of it strangles any inclination of independence and promotes sickening complacency in group thought. I am in the middle of freeing myself from an unhealthy amount that I discovered hindered my movements.
Finding the balance between being the terrifying dragon and the benevolent princess is proving itself to be a quite a task when engaging in the platonic social realm.
I have all but mastered the romantic, I am well versed on myself in love.
My true challenge now lies in the relationships of my family and the spiritual equivalent to my family, those being my friends. I have chosen to love a number of people for the rest of my life, and in doing so I have chosen to find and carve the most comfortable place available in my psyche to host my eternal fealty. To obtain the most comfortable place, I must learn to engage with those chosen in the most profitable way possible.
I cannot let myself be a fool for the many realms of love in the bedroom or outside of it.
And in the past few weeks I found myself becoming a fool for a form of love I hadn’t indulged in for some time, I also found my alarms reacting quite violently because of such. So now that I am alone, with my own thoughts and my own being as fully spread out as possible, I bask in the feel of my maturity, in the quiet tones of what could be seen as mundane adulthood painted in these midday moments. I fully recognise and note the change, and in that recognition I craft a new way to engage with those outside of myself while protecting the revered safe zones of my consciousness.
There has always been the reoccurring message to take care with the production and the experience that is my energy.
As I learn new lessons, the old ones resurface and layer upon my person like silk soaked in essential oils, crafted to both soften and beautify my physical matter and the soul this human crown rests upon.
I have to protect, remember, and revere this development as swiftly and efficiently as possible. I find myself getting caught up in nostalgia and forget how much I adore change.
That forgetfulness of such a specific fact about and need of myself is detrimental to my psychological, spiritual and physical health.
I have been reminded once again, and find it even more of a pleasure to come back to my original state and feel as though I reside within Mount Olympus. Knowing that you will not lose your way simply because of the spirit of your tenacity and thirst for sincere education is a wonderful method of living one’s life.
My intelligence is my insurance.
No matter how lost I might have been, it is all simply a series of experiments, hypothesis’ and conclusions tailored to raise the standard of my existence.
There is no such thing as lost.
Sometimes I write with too much concern for the reader and not enough concern for myself, I write forgetting that the true purpose of expressing myself as such is to attain the best mental health possible for my person, I write forgetting that just because my words attract the attention of what might be thousands means nothing next to the understanding that my words are crafted for the betterment of my soul and my lifestyle.
I forget about myself in the presentation of this art form.
I forget that my sincerity is my greatest gift.
So I will work to always remember that as much as my words attract and delight the crowds, it’s first purpose is to serve the cleansing of my psychological kingdom and the sharpening of my oral swords.
I will work towards this knowing that a better artist, is a happier audience.
Mine is a self cleaning system.
The next few days will be spent with my lover by the water, I wanted to write of my fears of intensity but realised that it would be fruitless to have such fear, my faith remains in the God who gave this experience to me, knowing that he is the anchor that will keep me in line during the tumultuous journey that might be myself in love. I look forward to being an adult in love, to spacing out the moments, to keeping my head above water, to learning how to breath inside of a concept of us.
I look forward to the journey that has been crafted before me, I look forward to the lessons that I might learn of myself.
Hope should always reign over fear, that is my testament for this year and beyond.
I started experimenting with making sounds, I’ve always been inclined to certain types of melodies and being given the free reign to create as much as I please as supplemented by technology feels pretty fucking fantastic.
& so I craft as many different forms of magic as my heart desires and let all these new creations fill up my divine silence with their song and dance of eternity.
I have fallen in love.
It’s odd, it’s slightly panic inducing & it’s all consumingly fantastic. I didn’t even notice how grey my life was before this brilliant technicolor assaulted my senses. My skin is glowing in a manner that makes me look even more ethereal than usual, I look like walking gold with as little additives as possible.
Love looks so beautiful on me.
But I feel almost guilty, when I think of all the men I claimed to love only because I never thought my true ideal actually existed, I worry that I might be shallow, & overly critical.
& then I ask myself the most important question of all, should I care if I am shallow & overly critical, when I have mated with my perfection?
Should I not applaud my shallow & overly critical nature that would’ve happily died alone rather than feel any part of her soul settle?
Should I not adore my stubborn nature? Should I not exalt my deep wells of secret hope? Where else could my refusal to compromise have been born from?
I want to give into reserved pessimism on the topic of this love at times, & a few moments ago I resolved to maintain as much faith as possible in what is presenting itself before me. I choose instead to believe with the might of an innocent child, I choose instead to love wholeheartedly as opposed to loving with knowledgeable reserve. I could walk this path as I have walked it before, but the truth is I have never seen a path like this one & I would very much like to enjoy myself as much as possible seeing as though enjoyment looks quite fucking profitable on my exquisite person.
This man seems to be a magnet for all goodness in my life, a corrective influence on every mismanaged aspect of my understanding, & he’s so bloody beautiful, in the way that I like.
& I can’t stop expressing how happy I am.
I’m going to make a variation of Sunday dinner, with roast potatoes, chicken & vegetables. I feel even more of a duty to eat well & heartily so my love does not worry for me as he seems to like to do.
I feel like a brand new person, with a new brand new wardrobe & sudden brand new opportunities for my imagination to flourish & create as much magic as possible in realms I never thought I would be able to dance in.
The sweet intoxication of change, perhaps I should have known I would be given such a perfect match, everybody else seemed to.
I was never without faith in love, it was faith in mankind that I truly lacked. I suppose I should apologise for doubting the brilliant magic that is creation in itself.
I’m very sorry.