Girl With The Curls |
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Observations of a Quixotic Femme Noire
__One Percent - 1%__
Warrior-woman; a Valkyrie. I'll always be yours. Always...and never. 
Are You HOT or NOT?  
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Friday, July 08, 2005
I don't understand...myself. Why do people care to have me as a friend? At this time I have a few people that want to know why I am "upset" with them; they want me to be their friend or they want our relationship to go back as it was. Why do they care whether or not I am a friend to them? I feel like maybe it is true...I don't let people in. In some ways, I want to be alone... Why do people give me "gifts"? A long time ago, I realized that I could get whatever I wanted out of people...very easily and with little to no effort. It didn't make me feel any better to receive anything using this method. It was too easy. I prefer to see what people will exchange with me of their own volition. It means so much more. When I say I only use my powers for good, this is one facet of my meaning. I knew a man once... He was French w/ a lovely name that rolled off my tongue and made his eyes sparkle when he heard it drip from my lips. A starving artist...he blew the horn. He was very pessimistic in outlook when I met him and it saddened me to watch him slowly get bitter as he realized that it was only friendship that could be allowed between us. We spent quite a bit of time together...eating take-out Indian cuisine on his mattress, on the floor, in his "living room" at his tiny-tiny apartment downtown. Accidentally spilled curry (my clumsiness struck again!) on the sheets while he explained how his country is racist against Blacks, though it is hidden. How he found it disgusting... A starving artist... He knew my favorite painter was VanGogh. His mother had sent him three lovely books and inscribed them to her son. He let me borrow them. When I went to return them, he told me to keep them as they were with their owner. Something made me feel there was more that he was giving and yet we never spoke about it. At times I think on him - wishing him well, hoping he is well...dreaming of his happiness and peace. But why? He isn't the only nor the first that has offered something and given freely to me. I am me - nothing special...well no more or less special than anyone else I would assume. Just a human being that sees things in a different perspective than most. I've always considered myself an old soul. Maybe I've touched more than I'll know in this frame of consciousness. It baffles me. holla@me
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