23 juin - Let no one in

First, there was this song: For No One, by Azure Ray.
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I don't think we've ever even touched each other. Whether it's a hand, or shoulders. We definitely talked, but never really, really like mature adults.
Most of the time, it was mainly like that.

And, you know... I don't feel angry about it, about that picture in particular, anymore. It used to annoy me that this kind of guy could go out with such a hottie, but then again, I haven't dated one at that time. I didn't know what it was. Now, maybe I can say, I could say, that I know what it feels... But not the afterwards. You know, the part when she becomes famous, and stuff, and I go like, yeah whatever man, but inside I'd feel completely like broken glass. Maybe, because it was with her, and not with you. And kill me now, God, oh god, please strike me now if she knows about this blog this WHOLE situation... I don't want things to get even weirder, even if it already is pretty messed up.

Again, it feels like this wedding's blues is still playing on me... It's like it follows me, at home, at work, in my tv shows...
I felt scared as shit that at my own, if it ever happens, I might joke to her about how the next ones will totally be cool or cooler, or how much I could get scared of marrying the wrong woman, so freaked out that I couldn't even tell my brother, nor my best friends, shit-pants-scared they would judge me... And then I'd be thinking to myself about me right now: "I'm not not dating by choice. I just don't get the attention from the girls I'd like to date, to know, to talk to."

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Oh god... and, there you are. And then we joke. Hey sis, hey broski. Sup. Sup. Oh you slept with L. cool. yeh, sex. Last night, you were at G's apartment? cool, cool. yeah, good thing i dont have an apartment, you'd totes be sleeping here all the time. Oh no, that's right, I HAVE, it's just that you don't feel this way... when it's only me. Because when heeee's here, now you're all... Oh, good, god. Why are you in my head this much...
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Why haven't we even shake hands, since the two years and half we know each other?
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I'll love no one, and let no one love me.
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JD
23, juin, 2013, 23h30

5 juin - This is not a haiku

This city has rejected me in so many different ways I cannot explain, and it fills me with anger that I can't express, so I just sit there. In the middle of the way home, on a bench. Letting the music get me to an emotional state, which one, I don't really know anymore. Should I scream, or laugh. Or just react with the least honnesty as possible, faking not a smile, but a nothingness, while all I think of are many many different plagues of that heart of mine.
I wish that everything I can think of, when I come back home, would vanish right at the corner of that empty street, filled with strangers. I am the ghost everyone keeps crossing by. "He must wait for someone". I am so patheticly waiting for a person to ask me what is wrong. And I know, that is a fantasy that can't happen, if I don't make it happen.

The clock in my room is bouncing its red light on my empty cellphone that no one would revive with a call or a text. No one needs anyone at ten thirty, a wednesday. No one, except you, when you need advice for first date clothing. And it kills me not to know who's going to be the next lucky guy.

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When all else fails
Focus on the good sides
Never fail yourself

This is not a haiku, it's how much I'm crazy about you. How amazed I am by the way you talk, that fashion of yours of always being serious and goofy at the same time, the look of understanding in your eyes.

2 juin - An evening with Jack Tennenbaum

Je ne lui ferai pas ça. Pas à elle. Je veux une proximité sans pensée, voire sans émotion, juste une connexion physique. Elle, je le sentais clairement, semblais vouloir autant le support moral que physique. Je ne peux pas lui donner seulement une partie. C'était tout ou rien, ça le reste aujourd'hui, pour elle. Même à petite dose. Et je sais que je n'en serais pas capable. Surtout après une grillade de poulet qui reste comme un poing sur l'estomac.
On s'est rapprochés, on s'est frôlés, mais ça ne venait pas de soi. On restait las, de nous, de tous. Et comment en aurait-il pu être autrement. Après ce rêve où je l'imaginais se faire des illusions sur le fait que j'étais toujours attiré par elle, je me sentais sécure de toute folie. Quelle surprise que de la découvrir dans de si belles jambes, longilignes, and yet, bien fermes, le jeans coupant à peine à la culotte que j'imaginais coquette. T'as toujours aimé porter du linge cute pensant que personne ne voudrait le voir, l'apprécier surtout.
Tout est pour le mieux. Il n'aurais pas fallu tomber dans la remise en question, le couple, oui ou non, les enfants qu'est-ce que t'en penses, et quel genre de fille tu cherches, tout pour me prendre dans un cul de sac. Essayer de s'en sortir sans mentionner la phrase tueuse: "Tout sauf toi", y aller plutôt pour la subtilité: "Oh tu sais, juste un Salut jeté comme ça en entrant dans le magasin, dit avec une légèreté, Ou plutôt, oui plutôt une comédienne, une qui sache ne pas être gênée devant un appareil photo, de jouer des games, plutôt que de toujours être soi même et nous ennuyer avec nos vies pathétiques de personne de second rang qui ne pogne jamais tandis que nos amis s'envoient en l'air à tous les mois." Non, je voulais lui offrir une bonne soirée, pas de tracas, pas d'engueulade, montrer qu'on peut discuter raisonnablement, et que je reste un bon ami, non pas juste un mec en manque de cul qui lui claque les fesses avant de me prendre un poing dans la figure. Me connaissant, il aurait suffit d'un argument d'un côté comme de l'autre pour que le bordel prenne.
J'ai terriblement peur du bordel.
Il me faut soit une petite femme qui sache ne pas me poker trop intensément, que la chicane ne ruine pas une soirée.
Mais me connaissant, je n'aurai jamais ce luxe. Avec ma chance, ma putain de chance...