I woke to the sound of mechanical beeping. Lights flashed around me as I opened my eyes. Slowly coming into focus, I noted the beige wall and glanced upwards toward the ceiling. I was laying in a hospital bed.
He had me, he had me hook line and sinker.
My mind races through old photographs, desolate sunsets, Asia to Amsterdam, and bodies shaking with every touch, and kiss, a new jolt to life brought forward by a mind-altering epiphany.
Whether protecting him or protecting myself, I dilute the white lies in white wine and carry on with our dinner.
I often think about the man on the moon. Who is he? What did he do? Where does he go to get his coffee? The unanswered questions radiate through my mind penetrating every solitary crevice of my sanity.
Who was Xavier? The ambiguity played connect the dots with the rain drops as they formed on the window pane. Through fogged covered glass and an autumn palette decorating the landscape, I stare aimlessly into the mid-afternoon sky.
Who is Xavier, more so, what is Xavier? Xavier is a supernatural entity that finds a way into even the strongest of minds. Acting upon repressed urges and hidden thoughts, a Xavier finds his way into the heart, and into the boudoir.
The biggest flaw with modern dating is the desire to sell yourself short. Dating in itself is an exhausting and tedious task, one which we all endure until we find a “forever” – or an “until further notice”. The problem with dating is that a sense of incredible judgement is placed on your decision to either a) continue dating the person, or b) decide to never see said person again. We dream about our aspirations and begin planning for the future with self-proclaimed confidence and a blinded understanding.
We had found ourselves in a Pas de Deux, performing our steps side by side, unbothered by the tribulations around us. In another world, maybe we were just like these dancers. Two minds accompanied by two bodies, working together to make art. Met in an open wound, we stitched the protrusion closed.
With every stir, the current beats back against the straw. My still empty stomach growls in protest as my wallet whines in agony. I’d kill for a bloody slice of cheesecake.
A human oxymoron, fighting for what I believe in through a shielded gaze and a misconstrued ideology – The epitome of a millennial lifestyle.
When faced with a bullet and a blade, what do you decide? When casualty will be met either way, do we just take the risk?