Lucifer's Brothel

This is not how it’s supposed to be.

It’s supposed to be wonderful and warm and beautiful, a blue sky clear of dark clouds. Yet despite the touch of the sunlight on the skin, I feel the cold damp of the ground soaking into my feet.

What is this feeling? One moment I’m falling down into the whirlpool of delirious happiness. Where nothing can bring me down. All I feel is going up, up, up. The way he makes me feel, it’s special. It’s… magical.

Then before I know it, the ghostly hand of reality and terror of what’s beyond the wall grabs onto my ankle and pulls. I don’t know why, I don’t know how. But even in all that happiness that he makes me feel, it comes with the price of terrifying lack of self-control. Just as how it makes me completely uplifted, it makes me feel like I’m stuck in a vacuum of feelings, stuck in a black hole of emotions.

Can we be together for as long as my dreams allow? Will we be able to make it?

Thoughts like that carry so much weight, and my shoulders ache.

If we’re not meant to be, then why would I put myself through that heartache? Isn’t that just dumb, to charge forward knowing that on the side of that beautiful beautiful hill is just a thousand-foot drop? The unknowing, the misty roads ahead are filled with perils, and I don’t know if I’m equipped to go through, without falling, without failing. It’s a brand new feeling. Something I’ve always feared.

Why can’t I just live in the moment? Just revel in the beauty that is this new romance, and live in the bliss of carefree ignorance. I can’t because that’s not how I am. I must know why, how, who, what, when… and it kills the truly happy part of me to say that I know of absolutely nothing of what is going on.

I don’t how to relay this to him. Or if I even should. Even to me, the owner of these feelings, these thoughts are terrifying. What would he, as an outsider to the darkness of my brain, think?

I care about him. About us. It’s as if, in these short few weeks, I’ve morphed into something, someone new. A creature that is selfish. A creature that wants something more than just the routine she’s carved out for herself. A creature that wants someone else.

I’m trying not to cut myself off, like every other connection I’ve ever felt. I’m trying to keep the same, glorious emotional powerhouse going, the powerhouse that runs on his presence in my life. But the logical, the smart, the brilliant part of me is backing away, is struggling to get loose of this hook into my heart. She knows that once I dive in head first, she will no longer be the one in control. The one who has been driving me to success, to dominate, to ignore the emotions… she will have to take a backseat. And she is not happy about that. I don’t know if I even should be.

But I want to see how the other side lives. The side that lets passion take over their lives. The side that follow their guts. The side that doesn’t analyze and calculate everything to fulfill the formula of life. The side with dreams.

I’ve never lived life by the seat of my pants. Never had my heart on my sleeve. Never tossed caution to the wind and said “Fuck it, let’s go do something crazy.”

And feelings are crazy.

Yet, this might not be the best time to try out the other side. Law school is the opposite of a walk in the park, and my parents. And where we are in life. And who we are as people. Am I really for altering myself? Even if it gives me a taste at happiness, at the freedom that I have always dreamed of?

The hopeless romantic that logical Lucy thought she had squashed has woken up. And she wants cute. She wants hopes. She wants love. She wants him.

What am I to tell her?

Do I slap her in the face and say “get a grip”? Do I take her into my arms and give her the romance that she’s always dreamed, risking heartbreak for her happiness? Do I calm her down and recalculate?

Career Lucy needs to be in the forefront. Hopeless Romantic Lucy wants out. Logical Lucy doesn't know what to do.

All three admit that they want happiness. But what is happiness?

Someone give me an answer. The ball is rolling downhill, and I won’t be able to catch it if it gets any faster.

What exactly is closure?

Closure is supposed to be the end of some sort of feelings, some form of final denial that says "now I'm alright again", is it not? Why is denying something or someone so hard? Of course, because feelings are involved. Fuck feelings. I know I've posted so many about how being a robot would be so great, but never before have I had this distaste towards feelings and emotions and all the shitty consequences that come with having them. Who knew that Black Rose, a pretender of the highest ice-cold caliber, would have such a hard time forgetting something and someone, when all she has ever done all her life is forget?

Having the worst short-term memory since God invented Alzheimer's had made me think myself stronger and more immune to the effects of those quick, intimate moments. But just because I can forget what i had for lunch the previous day apparently doesn't mean I could just as easily forget about it. About him. About what happened in the fleeting moments between two bodies on a twin bed in a darkly-lit downstairs apartment. And most importantly, about how much that hour meant to me. It's not as if I'd loved him all my life, or even ever. (After all, I still don't understand "love"... though I feel as if I'm getting closer to understanding). I hadn't even considered him as someone "worthy" (as one might say) until I had emotionally and hormonally gone through some of the other men that live in my close proximity.

But he was... gentle. Sweet. Kind. And he indulged my stupid whims, even though he wasn't that type of man at all. And maybe his slight lead ons made me want him more, but who questions the little things? I didn't know that it'd be me who'd regret such a thing. Black Rose with regrets? It's almost an oxymoron.

Who thought that I could tear my own motto "the end justifies the means" into a billion little pieces, pieces of thoughts and tears and imaginary happiness? Not I.
Who thought that crossing him off as a conquest would make me more vulnerable than he? Not I.

I, stupid stupid me, thought that since nothing could ever come of us, that I had nothing to lose. He would be off on the other side of the world and I would be in my own little corner of Virginia, so we were safe. He was a half-hippie and outdoorsy, and I was all-glittery-lifestyle and comfort, so I wouldn't find him so appealing. It was supposed to be safe.

But goddammit, it was playing with fire. I should've known... my emotions haven't exactly been stable, my intimacy issues had yet to be checked, and I still went for it. I went for it after I cockblocked myself, after a mutual friend told me not to break his heart, after he seemed not to want it anymore. I went for it with all the reckless abandon I had, thinking there'd be no consequences. And I got what I wanted.

At least, I got what I thought was what I wanted. I got his body, I got to check him off my list. But it was all so empty. After all of that, he still maintained distance. Perhaps it was his last indulgence to me, one last reprieve before he finally realized how much danger we were in, but it was the worst decision I could've made. It seemed right at the time... me seducing this serious, long-term kind of guy, as a booster of sorts. God I am a selfish bitch. It's only right that I get bitten in the ass by the consequences of my own actions.

Maybe to him, it was a new experiment, to test out the "casual hookup" waters. Maybe it really was something completely random, and I was just a guinea pig. And all the more power to him, since you should try everything once. But dammit, did it have to occur now, when my emotions suddenly decided to be worn on my sleeve? It shocked me to my core, that I felt so much sadness and anger after his polite decline of being friends with benefits. It shouldn't have affected me so much, seeing as how I'd had more attractive, more aggressive, more charming men. But... it was beautiful. Coming from a fairly emotionally frigid household, his tenderness touched me more than any body could have. It wasn't the great sex or the great seduction that made it the best I've ever had. It was just... him.

Most disgusting, is that I thought/wished/hoped that I was special. That I could be "the one" (whether that means the "one" random hookup he'll ever have, or "the one" that is magical). But apparently, I wasn't, and that's what hit me the hardest. I fell in tenderlove, and he probably just... well, fell in me, perhaps unwillingly. But he seemed to enjoy himself. And I'm glad he did. But curse my stupid stupid developed feelings. And so much for turning a serious one to the dark side. Apparently the force was stronger with that one than it was with me. And now I'm questioning what I want, and who I want.

Truly disgusting.

The best times of my life, I thought, would be lots of casual sex with lots of attractive, beautiful, charming men. It turned out, that not only was the best time of my life the exact opposite (some form of emotion-related tender sex with one average, not so attractive man), the best time also became the worst time. Is this what it means to actually experience real emotions for someone? I hope it isn't. I really hope not. (But knowing my luck, it probably is.)

I'm not a "true love" kind of girl. At least, I thought I wasn't. But fuck it all if I'm not finding that "marriage with kids in a white picket fence" more appealing than the last time I checked.

God I miss him.