Infatuation

My Tutu, temporarily.              

Suppies Readers 

This oncoming post, at the least is an extension of the previous post...'Tutu'. 

It's been over a week now since we last exchanged words, an unnecessarily stretched-out week it has been indeed. Night after night, right before I slip away into the demented nightmares that define who I am, I softly whisper "Goodnight Tutu" .Why do I do this? I guess wishing Tutu an awesome night wherever he may be, no matter what he is doing and whom so ever he is fucking I want him to enjoy it.Just because I wished it so. Insanity? Perhaps, I've never really questioned it before. I also am far too proud to say it to him, via social media. You see, I absolutely loath being ignored. I simply cannot stomach it, but unfortunately our subject of choice, Tutu read the last message I sent him and yet he failed to reply to me. So I kept it at that. Obviously concluding that he had moved on (of which I do not blame him) and had forgotten about me already. Pursuing romances and basically just doing him.

This was not the case.

How do I know?

I have a problem, I give chances. Chances to bums that don't deserve them.

Chances to idiots that keep wronging me.

To the point were I have to scrape for one last chance for the unworthy individual, followed by the horrors of my conscience. That haunt me. Harassing me mentally. 

This is not the case with Tutu. 

Tutu is in Cape Town. I am in Johannesburg. 

There is no chance to give.

End of the month, we agreed on. The due date, that temporarily puts a halt to our social communication. Until we meet again. 

In many years to come.

A peaceful departure. For two young hearts to lead the path they were destined to travel on, and if our paths cross again...

I am afraid that I will not let go.

Not again.

Gran(^•^)Dad

Tutu

Whats Up,
Readers!!

My sincere apologies for not having posted in so long.Alotta shit went down.of which i will be sharing with you next week.
Now during my festives I had somewhat a "summer romance" .
And here is some of what i felt.

                       

Doesnt it look like i drink blood Of virgin children.

I woke up this morning and wrote. I had to.
I dreamed about you during the early hours of the morning, well actually at the break of dawn.

Even though I know, NOW you hate me.
Even though I know your family has turned you against me.
Even though your numerous cries of lies filled my heart with hope.
All knowing of your sneaky ways, I gave in. I was at your mercy.
Even though I knew deep down that your lips were the lips of a harlot.
I still kissed them.
Even though I knew your hugs were open to any human being with a bosom, I still hugged you.
At that moment I felt "loved".
Accepted, wanted and needed in an affectionate fashion.
Even though you told me you loved me, and I knew you've uttered those words a thousand times to your perpetual "Female Aquintances".
I returned the statement.
Not because I did love you TuTu, but because I too wanted to feel the warmth of telling someone I love them.
Even though I am not in love with you, but rather at the sweet idea of being in love. I reciprocated those sweet words, because I know my fate.
That.
In actuality, I am unlovable.

Even though I knew very well that my fate as a Forever Alone was carved into stone far before the beginning of time.
I fell for you.
TuTu.
Again.
Since we had an unfinished romance from back when I was 13, you 14.
Even though I knew it would hurt when I left you in Cape Town. I knew I would come back to my rut.
You would flee once more to your infinite bitches on call.
And I would be here.
In bed alone. Missing your fake hugs and affection.

Even thought your family did me wrong.
I still dream about you. As if desperately searching for a place in my mind where we can be as I want us to be.

Another Heart-Ache,
Another Failed Romance.

-GranDaD

Plans, Plans, Plans

Molweni
(A general greeting in my home language- isiXhosa)

Now just a reminder, that all blog entries are written 3 weeks in advance. So basically this was written on the 26th of December still.

Plans for the festives you ask? Cape Town! A city oozing with a variety of fishes, wines and hard liquors. All of which collectively tantalize me from the thought. I will be visiting "family", of whom I have not seen of spoken to in a little of over a year. I am a bit chilled at the thought really. Reviving a conversation with them, last spoken a year ago! What makes me quiver even more is that I had deleted one of them on BBM as I do when I feel threatened by the contact. I swore to add her on watsapp. I saved her number, yet I failed to send that message.
Soon after I mistakenly blocked my phone, so I lost her number.
 Fuck.
 This very true story of mine somehow sounds like a load of bullshit when spoken aloud, aint'it.

What am I to do?

Carry on as we had last left things?
I'm nervous.
My hatred for the human soul makes me unable to uphold an upbeat conversation with "them", in the absence of alcohol that is.
Because.
With IT. I can conquer any obstacle. In actuality, when I am intoxicated I make it my life's mission to be "liked" by every human I come into contact with. Almost in a desperate attempt to be accepted as one of them
-the humans.
As I myself do not classify myself as one of them.
I am something different. A roaming shell, whose soul is filled with innocence and ignorance. As is so with a toddler or even a buddy (dog). In search of love.The love that was taken away from me.
Buma (my son).
I try to lurk for it else where.
The World. The humans, they force me to abandon my heart filled motto. To become like one of them. If not I am too week to survive.
Well maybe I am.
Have I drifted aside?
Let's see if Cape Town changes my mind.
Cape Town.
Buckle up, I'm on my way.

Bottle in hand
-Gran(^•^) Dad