merry paramour

i remember once, when i was much younger and a hell of a lot dumber, i gave away all my books in make believe auctions bartered with play money that i made. not only my books, my dad's books. this was way back when it was just the old man and me. he couldn't understand why i would be so generous with the books, which meant a hell of a lot more to me, than the all the dresses they shovelled off to my cousin. i guess in my young mind, i had a really warped idea of fairness, and deservings. my friends had already paid me enough in attention, and love. and they would treat the books with as much care as i did. my little cousin however, spoilt rotten as she were, did not appreciate all the things my dad and grandparents picked out to ship off to her. mostly dresses that no longer fit me, but sometimes graphic novels which she won't read. i always felt betrayed when i came back to find something gone and knowing it had gone to her. i would've quite happily given it all to the neighbouring kids if i'd known they were going to do that.

i made that decision very early on. blood is certainly not thicker than water. and people who are kind to me, deserve everything.

although i still live by that principle, after all the politics of highschool, i've learnt to be a lot more selfish. until that is, questions of love came into the equation.

i'm still as confused as ever. i've watched enough romantic comedies to get the point drilled in; that if you're not being honest then in the end everyone gets hurt
but it's never as easy as that is it?

so as i shout my mantras in my head
(WE ACCEPT!
ONE OF US!)
i'll just stumble along hoping something sticks.