Dont
let it get to you that Im writing yet again. It shouldnt disturb you,
Im fine. Just fine. The only thing bothering me just a little bit is
that perpetuüm mobile thing we seem to have going. Maybe Im just not
being nice enough, I dont know? Dont laugh, now! I know I am not a
nice person. Not really. Its just like we got caught somewhere, were
stuck. Cycling in different speeds through the different stages of
whatever. We wine and then dine and then break up because all of a
sudden you think you fell in love. So then I think that its fine
because its not like were exactly Gone with the Wind and all. We
play the just friends tune and I leave you to do what it is you do.
Anyway, one way or the other you call me or I call you for some dumb
reason or another.
And
then were back where we started. Well just have dinner or lunch or a
lot of cocktails in some bar. You tell me all about your adventures in
Rome or another city and how work is and that youre writing again
blablabla. And I blablabla back at you, smiling and laughing at just
the right time. I know you like me laughing and all sparkling. So all
of a sudden you start liking me in that special way again. In that way
that you really get to me. Again. Dont panic, Bill. I know it is just
your game and I just cant resist a challenge. Jeux are being faites,
yet again. You start with a little mean streak, Bill. Just a little
mean, and you know it. I walk in front of you, silly me. I should never
turn my back on you. You step up, right behind me now. Your arm
stretches out, reaches and you grab me by the neck. I stop immediately,
respond to what I know too well. Turn my head up towards you, but
already you let go, moved forward. Already you know everything you
needed to know
I
dont care much for how you are feeling today. Frankly, my dear, I
dont give a damn. My friend is here again. My really good friend. She
keeps me company when Im alone. Shes always here when I feel sad,
when I feel bad. I finally found my own life, I guess. The moneys
coming in, at least.
I
drink wine and I smoke cigarettes. Smoke. Drink. Draw. Watch. Listen.
Hear. Melancholic music. Melancholic music that reminds me of how its
meant to be. Its not that I miss you. No, dont think that. The
Puppet-Master is no longer pulling strings either. Its just me again.
Just me like it is, like it was, like it will be. Its ok, though. It
doesnt hurt so bad, anymore. So you neednt worry, ok? Well see each
other some time later, isnt it?
You
know I can stand up for myself and fight my own fights. You had me
taught it a long time ago and I still havent forgotten. Its just that
I need to be bad sometimes, like I have to get a fever out of my
system. I feel aloof and always coming back for more. Instead of
running from I am the one running to. Plunging in head over heals and
never looking back.
Find one more final bridge to burn
Reach the point of no return
Be hard, be though, be cool
Never be nobodys fool
You know that I am strong
You know I dont stay long
I am already on my way
Goodbye month of May
Oh, I can be good. Sometimes. Never steady. But tonight, I will be the girl next door
We
could be so good together, you said. I know. Im a good match with
every bad, twisted and evil freak listed anywhere. Im probably better,
if not best, on my own. The only problem is just my lack of sanity. And
stability, of course. Ive always dreamed of big crowds, Bill. But my
dreams are always wrong.
Have
you noticed the sunshine today? I dont trust it, anyway. Ive been let
down before. I am alone. At night, I dream about walking through empty
streets of abandoned cities. The silence is frightening because you
know that somewhere some creature is luring and planning its move. In
these dreams I try to reach out and find someone. I finally start
running to catch up with people I seem to hear. But every corner I turn
just shows another empty street, with just the wind playing with some
leaves. I sometimes wake up screaming out your name, Bill. Then I reach
for the gun under the pillow, check whether it is loaded and hesitate
to pull the trigger. Happiness is a warm gun, we both know that.
Sometimes
you drop me line. Just a line. You know, in answer to my pathetic
letters. You write: Yes that is ok, Uma dear. Lets do that some time.
And then I get all going to organize all that stuff like I think you
want me to. But not really. So I call and call and call some more until
we finally meet just to hear you say that I look good that day. I
should stop all this, shouldnt I. But if I punish myself, do I not
take that burden off the world, Bill?
