Stories

We don’t even talk anymore. The saying that silence is the biggest killer cannot be categorized as just another metaphor anymore. He couldn’t say “Dont do it baby”. Was he listening to Boys To Men too much these days? There is a slight possibility he was but I am sure he would not want to admit that. Why would he? He had no feelings, he just appreciated the game. I knew otherwise – I knew him too well and this was just more than a game for him. He could not look deep down and admit it. What is so hard about admitting something to someone? I have seen him being more frank and straight forward on other instances, but I guses this would let his “guard down”. He looked gazinly over the room. There was no aroma, no perfumes and no he was not thinking about the scent of her hair. He was thinking of possibilities and where he had gone wrong. He was a huge believer in smiles and he knew she had smiled at him differently. I mean this guy is real pathetic right; I am not even sure why I am wasting my time writing such a story. Ah the paradox of personalities couldn’t cause more confusion than this. Unless you knew this person, you would never imagine the thought processes that run through his head – a maze I remember clearly telling him when I saw it. He suddenly woke me up – Summer of 69 had come on his ipod. It was time to end this post.

He lay still. He wasn’t thinking and definetly no motion. Well you could hear the heart beat, so I suppose he was still alive. Crazed, mixed and complexed thoughts could never be defined as thinking for it was not in his conscious at all, but they were pouring through him. The fear of being alone was pulsating like he had never felt before. He woke up from him unconscious death with a sudden thrill and vengenance. Well that momentum died suddenly with him just like that loud techno music from his ipod. Vengenance could never be applied to this character and the thrill just faded with his sudden realization of being alone. He did not want to be here but that was a total lie. This is the only place he wanted to be but his cocky pride as usual was being a bureaucratic obstacle. Questions were raising after a long period of time in his head about his – future, life, ambitions but mostly her. A week ago, she was a different form, a different being. Confused, so was he. Imagine my confusion writing this part of the story. He laughed, knowing consciously he just had a crack at himself in his brain, and then continued typing this post. He had to admit something – this whole post is an irony of seduction.