Pride And Anarchy
Splatter Art by Holden Starstruck
Henry VIII would fucking love the world we live in today. You can parachute some heroin and fuck with the stars – and not even change your religion. True, you can’t exactly behead your former lovers but you can always block them on Facebook.
Princess Diana is one ex whose head I would happily sever. I compare him to Princess Diana because he’s sickeningly sweet in that superficial, to-your-face way, but in reality only wanted me for sex and was abusing drugs in a big time way. It was kind of fucked up.
But then again, how do you have any relationship with drugs without abusing them? So I guess in a way, Princess Diana used me as a drug too. Love and relationships, can be, to quote another ex-boyfriend, “just one giant grey, amoebic area.” I wanted him, he denied me, and now, eight months later he’s wondering why I don’t like responding to texts that say “I want u” at 5 in the morning after he saw me go home with someone else. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good guy and I’m sorry about being harsh, but really, desperation never bought anybody anything.
Love is capitalistic and cutthroat like that. It can suck, but games really are a part of life, and everybody knows this but forgets it once they get hard about something. Sometimes you have to pose and paint yourself a Mona Lisa smile. Sometimes you have to walk tall, speak in tongues, spit fire, and bleed acid. And sometimes you have to be brash, bombastic, stupid and anarchic with your emotions. Everybody is posing shamelessly and dancing recklessly into the morning with their emotions. It’s an age of desperate celebration. Nobody’s buying anything and emotional currency is at an all time low. Oil, cynicism, and doubt fill the oceans.
Well fuck that. I refuse to be like Princess Diana – reluctantly hiding in one fairytale or another until the next tragedy happens. Screw the fairytale, I’d honestly rather just break myself than lie alone fighting my own delusion. And fuck abusing my own personal power beyond comprehension to the point of contempt like Henry VIII. I have no desire to assert control beyond my own place in the anarchic status flow.
It’s like with this guy that I’ve been seeing recently (hope you’re reading and you approve). I don’t know how I feel about him yet and I don’t know where he could possibly fit into my life. He’s definitely the good kind of different. I don’t have the need or the desire to assert any control over the situation (or any situation) – it’s all chaotic and casual enough anyway.
And that’s okay. Maybe energy really does flow according to the whims of the great magnet. Time rusts and replaces the weary and strong alike. There’s really no fighting the great design – there’s only fighting for pride, love, and some sort of fucked up sense of stability.
Maybe that’s the design of it all – maybe we’re all just lovesick, desperate and starved dogs pit against ourselves, and only ourselves. We’re all just looking for a bite while trying to feign otherwise. We all (essentially) fuck and fight the same way. We all love and lie the same way. In theory it should be a lot easier to understand each other than it is. So maybe earnest affection and honest love is like that – hungry bitch versus hungry bitch, your body versus their body, your mind versus your mind and you have no other choice than to sit back and enjoy the conflict.
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