Blue tick the damn thing

Long long time ago

Caught up in juvenile infatuation I could almost hear in my head a chorus of distraction, ‘He loves me, he loves me not’ a constant refrain that I cannot drive out of my head with the worry of love most fervent yet unrequited. Did I not feel that yearning even at the age of 7 and he a few years older playing a father in a game of family the burning tears of emotion filling my eyes whilst I pretended nothing is wrong. A tick for what?

Time passes on to when with another in a forage into what would not be much other than a dare, adolescence getting the better of me, my protégé submits a letter to her and she responds, ‘I am a small girl.’ That small girl a few years later a prefect, my junior but as fate would have it tables turned in ways that could never have been predicted. A tick-off that.

Letters and messages

We met for the school games, they from so far away, it was unlikely we would meet again. Yet, friends, we became and pen-pals more. A letter I sent, even two, unsure they will be delivered and even into oblivion they may have gone. If I do remember what I wrote then. A tickle it was.

Now, we seek in the instant, of gratification that cannot wait. In promptness and alacrity, the response must arrive before we have thought it. Woe betides he that leaves it nanosecond too late for the next will have you at the assizes and guilty, you’ll be found before your excuse is heard. To whom shall you appeal? In the courts of WhatsApp, the distance between you and jail is a blue tick. 

Thought Picnic: Filing bankruptcy on this emotional investment

The investment

The promises broken time and again as fondness turns to agitated demands for attention when the object of affection expresses interest whilst not making plans to engage.

There is a creeping sense of indifference in return for an enduring sense of infatuation that it has come to a head.

It is time to cut one’s losses before the engagement leads to a point where an investment bias continues to persuade one to put more in for diminishing returns.

Another lesson learnt

Indeed, a hope once existed for profit, but they are beyond the impasse, one party’s concern, care and consideration is being taken for granted.

The hopeless romantic that he is, hoodwinked by his own devices and deceptions has been taken for a ride much further than his intended destination, that he is left in the middle of nowhere long after the last bus has gone.

Hitch-hiking on the vestiges of emotional distress, that constant quest for love is dashed against the rocks of perfidy, pleasures misaligned and company stolen for the moment.

Yet the quest must continue because someone, somewhere out there is probably just that someone that will matter the most after all. We are done with the last unprofitable venture. Goodbye!

Thought Picnic: When in the face of beauty, words fail me

I behold

It is a reaction I have relived and experienced from as far back as I can remember, probably four times until once again today; a look, a face, just the face, the eyes, the nose, the cheeks, the smile, the perfect sculpt of art indescribable and at that instant my heart begins to melt.

My knees buckle, my heart races, but there is no lust or yearning of that sort, just a desire to be close, to be a friend and nothing more.

From afar but close enough

No, I would hate to ruin the adulation and awesomeness with any intimacy beyond deep appreciation that such exacting work of divine providence is bequeath on one person for which even the most sceptical will avow that a hand beyond sight does wonders of words beyond expression on the visage of another.

Then I pray, in the weakness that has overcome me, keep me from being besotted, deliver me from infatuation but these things rule my heart and deny my head the vetting of common-sense because there are times when just following the heart is the revelation of the beauty of nature and that of mankind.

Nay, words fail me.