somebody told me

An insightful weekend, by all means. It's incongruous how I spied upon the inner workings of my emotions over Chinese tea and cigs. Spied, or should I use 'revealed'? Mere pedantry; it's now inconsequential. Yeah, definitely helps talking, and talking, and talking; I reckon for 6 and a half hours or so. Sometimes I don't fancy being told I'm wrong; there are moments when I dislike being right. This time, I looked forward to being wrong, I couldn't be fucked to be right. Being open really helps in grasping clarity of thought and action; no strings attached, no hidden agenda. I'll get by with a l'il help from my friends.

Well, I want to believe the signals and signs and gestures and everything else. Of course I do. But believing and reality are sometimes poles apart; and bring about painful repercussions when confused with one another. I should know, I've been culpable of several disastrous mix-ups over the years, when I was way younger. Every gesture is thoroughly analysed to the point of being completely remoulded from the original act. You erect a magnificent castle beyond the clouds, only to find out you're barking up the wrong tree.

So you learn from your cock-ups. You 'collect' these gestures, these actions; and you store them in your treasure chest. You gently cup every word, every sentence and put it away safely. And once your treasure chest is overflowing, that's when you know it's time to cash in, to run the final mile. You know you're safe, the hook has landed, you stuck it in. It might have taken an extra year, but it's worth it. But there's a catch. Like points accumulated, they expire. So you toil and keep filling the chest, but what's at the bottom has dissipated into thin air; your interest's feelings have waned with each passing month and now he/she thinks you're not interested, or has outgrown the sweet emotions he/she felt for you. And all you're left with is a treasure chest full of dusty memories.

Okay, so how do I relate this to myself? I'm not sure; I think I got carried away with the analogies and forgot what my point was. Wait, I know. I need to have a cut-off point, a point in time when I decide to just rush in headlong instead of loitering by the sidelines, analysing and permutating. Come to think of it, I've been in a couple of relationships which have lasted more than 11 years, collectively. It's time to shake things up, and follow the path least travelled. The moment I overcome my debilitating fear of humiliation. Which is, like, never.