I think clowns are the saddest characters created; no nuance, just straight out comic. There is nothing funny about this world, and to be subjected to producing comedy with no other options is poisonous to the soul and a prison I wish for no man. Nevertheless, I do not wish that all clowns break free; I am not a fan of Gotham. – Frank Chukwuebuka Clinton
At some point, you get tired of it. This is where you dread because now, the pressure will cloud your eyes. What are you playing for: long-term spot or short-term? As always, this binary game- make her laugh now; make her scream later in orgasmic tones, I can say that word because like Mourinho I’ve made those who had no hope of ever lifting a trophy scream in joys untold, ah! This beautiful game- gets dull and bland with the weight of age and societal expectations.
You want to settle down but you somewhat believe it isn’t time yet. You need to get the bag up but the bag never seems to be up. Five figures become six and six become seven. You swore you’d stop at six but right now, seven will do it but we both know that that is a lie. In all, this is a lie. A well-told lie. Sometimes, you’re in awe that people even believe you. Maybe they don’t. Perhaps they mind their business enough to not burst your bubble. Like, if he says he’s a she, leave him be. We all have our delulu to deal with.
Nevertheless, at some point, you will tire of this binary game. You want more. And it is not marriage. Yesterday you looked in the mirror and for the first time you saw you: you were not a baby boy. He’s dead. The cute boy those women wanted is no more. You’re a man now battling with unkempt facial hair. It was all-consuming, to be desired. That feeling that everyone wanted a piece of you, male and female alike. You could have sworn that the softest lips you ever had was a man’s but how many do you even remember having? However, isn’t this the saddest part- everyone wanting a piece of you yet none wanting the whole of you?
You felt electric pulses in your bones but now you’re one of those who had been passed around while being made to think they were special. You thought they were your fans. Well, maybe they inflated the bubble that has left you trapped in. Anyway, this will never be the story you will share with the world. You’ll tell them you are tired or better still, you found Christ. Or was it He who found you because you were never truly looking? Let’s give you some credit and say, you made yourself available. Uhm… this wouldn’t sell. Christ arrested you. This more or less makes you look like you still have options. Like, you still got the dog in you.
So, yes, at some point you will grow weary of this binary game. You will want more. Your own person. Someone who wants the whole of you, whatever piece of it left. I pity her already. And if you have to marry her to get more then so be it.
