An evening at the funfair with someone else would have been a much better way to spend my time, but I wouldn't trade my night with my buddy for any other time in the world either.
I love fun fairs and the deepest of my love is found on the magical ferris wheel that goes round and round, all lit up in her glitz and cyclical splendours. If the fair has a life of her own as how I would always imagine it to, I am sure the Ferris wheel would be the envy of all other rides. She is just so pretty although at times could be a tad little destitutional.
That is how I imagine myself to be. A ferris wheel. My entire being is just revolving along a central axis to or against my whims and fancy. Whether I like it or not. Just moving along. Appearing splendid to some, to the satisfaction and expectations of many, sad and lonely to myself.
Me and her. We are the ultimate partners in crime. And I've only known her since I return home. How fast things change and turn; it is amazing how comfortable we've become in each other's company.
Obviously my dopamine reactor is still retardated by the Tetrahydrylcannaboid compound introduced into my system in gaseous form merely a good half hour ago.
"One for the road", she jested before throwing into my path her usual warm embrace as I headed out of her room.
We blazed a pound of spliffs tonight. The most that I could recall since we started toking together. Ever since we started sharing the peace pipe of love, you know what I mean? While layan-ing to the thumping beats of Steve Lawler, Eddie Halliwell, Ferry Corsten and Tiga. It was a trip, alright.
We just laid on her bed, looking at the imaginary thick swirl of hot smoke of burnt marijuana circling the room. Everything in silence. Everything felt like Jamaica. There was just me, her and the feeling that we were on our way.
Before she broke into her usual bout of conversation of her life story that I do not mind listening to on the 54th rerun, when I am intoxicated. The chat routine would involve us breaking into fits of laughters at the most morbid of things like the incident of how she saw two of her friends got run over by a truck or looked at each other in playful paranoia when we pretended to realize that their deaths could be due to supernatural circumstances. Like they had to die, so that we could learn how to live. Those sorta karmic bullshit about life.
In the midst of it all, I reached my hand out to hers.
It was nothing really. I just needed the physical contact. And it was not long after that I found myself naturally cuddled up to her, arms wrapped around her well-toned waist. Damn bitch must have been working out pretty hard at the gym. She understood my intentions. She knew that I was not there for some sleazy ass advantage taking, if I needed anything sexual, I didn't have to hang out with her.
That was the kind of relationship we have. We have talked over it many a times. I could do without any extra commitments presently and she didn't need a man to be around her. We are just friends. With No benefits.
In the dead of times, it is amazing to have a woman whom I could turn to. I don't tell anyone my problems. I listen to a million people tell me theirs, but I do not go around spinning my dirty linens in any hope for affirmation or solution to my predicaments from anyone. It is just the way I function. I just figure my shit out. But sometimes the burden does get too heavy and that is when I would hide in my dark little corner and wait for someone to hold me until I could stand for myself when the time comes.
She provided just that tonight and every other nite when I am not doing any good in life. I am proud that I could also be that person whom she turns to when she is facing shit. She is my friend. And I love her because she is the craziest bitch in town who would smoke weed with me in the middle of a working week all within the logical emotional purview that she loves me too.
And you can't go back nor come back when there is no one watching. It is all suddenly strange. It is such a silly thing.
I love fun fairs and the deepest of my love is found on the magical ferris wheel that goes round and round, all lit up in her glitz and cyclical splendours. If the fair has a life of her own as how I would always imagine it to, I am sure the Ferris wheel would be the envy of all other rides. She is just so pretty although at times could be a tad little destitutional.
That is how I imagine myself to be. A ferris wheel. My entire being is just revolving along a central axis to or against my whims and fancy. Whether I like it or not. Just moving along. Appearing splendid to some, to the satisfaction and expectations of many, sad and lonely to myself.
Me and her. We are the ultimate partners in crime. And I've only known her since I return home. How fast things change and turn; it is amazing how comfortable we've become in each other's company.
Obviously my dopamine reactor is still retardated by the Tetrahydrylcannaboid compound introduced into my system in gaseous form merely a good half hour ago.
"One for the road", she jested before throwing into my path her usual warm embrace as I headed out of her room.
We blazed a pound of spliffs tonight. The most that I could recall since we started toking together. Ever since we started sharing the peace pipe of love, you know what I mean? While layan-ing to the thumping beats of Steve Lawler, Eddie Halliwell, Ferry Corsten and Tiga. It was a trip, alright.
We just laid on her bed, looking at the imaginary thick swirl of hot smoke of burnt marijuana circling the room. Everything in silence. Everything felt like Jamaica. There was just me, her and the feeling that we were on our way.
Before she broke into her usual bout of conversation of her life story that I do not mind listening to on the 54th rerun, when I am intoxicated. The chat routine would involve us breaking into fits of laughters at the most morbid of things like the incident of how she saw two of her friends got run over by a truck or looked at each other in playful paranoia when we pretended to realize that their deaths could be due to supernatural circumstances. Like they had to die, so that we could learn how to live. Those sorta karmic bullshit about life.
In the midst of it all, I reached my hand out to hers.
It was nothing really. I just needed the physical contact. And it was not long after that I found myself naturally cuddled up to her, arms wrapped around her well-toned waist. Damn bitch must have been working out pretty hard at the gym. She understood my intentions. She knew that I was not there for some sleazy ass advantage taking, if I needed anything sexual, I didn't have to hang out with her.
That was the kind of relationship we have. We have talked over it many a times. I could do without any extra commitments presently and she didn't need a man to be around her. We are just friends. With No benefits.
In the dead of times, it is amazing to have a woman whom I could turn to. I don't tell anyone my problems. I listen to a million people tell me theirs, but I do not go around spinning my dirty linens in any hope for affirmation or solution to my predicaments from anyone. It is just the way I function. I just figure my shit out. But sometimes the burden does get too heavy and that is when I would hide in my dark little corner and wait for someone to hold me until I could stand for myself when the time comes.
She provided just that tonight and every other nite when I am not doing any good in life. I am proud that I could also be that person whom she turns to when she is facing shit. She is my friend. And I love her because she is the craziest bitch in town who would smoke weed with me in the middle of a working week all within the logical emotional purview that she loves me too.
And you can't go back nor come back when there is no one watching. It is all suddenly strange. It is such a silly thing.
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