Alone

Sorry.

It’s been a long time, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I sort of physically fell down a downward storm that crushed everything inside me but my body, although I feel it in my bones, something has died in me. It’s funny, it’s the first time I write like this, like I’m really lonely, like I’m really alone. Before? Before I was lying, I was saying “oh Lord, I’m so lonely!” But deep in my heart I still knew that someone was listening.

I was still waiting for someone to come to my rescue and hold my hand and hand me her heart and heal me in the end.

But that was a fallacy. Not only on the sentimental perspective, but even in the realm of comradery. Comradery?

Bullcrap.

You’ve got to realize that no one loves you, and that no one wants you here, or else them too would be penpalling with the stars in longing for an answer. No they don’t. They go about they lives. Pay their taxes, have kids, divorce, then die. That little glow was still very alive within me until that day when I said,

stop, I don’t need you to commit suicide.

And I died, I died to this world, that had never acknowledged me. I died from society and I drifted away not really knowing where to go. I killed that persona, filled to the brim with false hopes, charades and fairy tales, that the grand fakers narrated me time and time again. This is disgusting. Now I know that I am really alone, and that I can’t count on no one,

in three decades maybe they’d dissect my decadence. As usual art critics danse one death too late.

And I’m gone, who can even catch me after I evaporated and bring me back to the pen.

“Personne”, which in French means someone and, nobody.

It’s hilarious, you should laugh, this is what people do when someone dies, they one day smile, then cry, cry, then smile, then die. And people will do the same for them, until there’s no one left.

This man would be the freest man in the history of mankind, he would at length breathe the fresh  air of liberty, before killing himself in his turn. And what did I spoke of a last man instead of a last woman? Well take a walk plebeian.

 

Love (or something like that)

PBx

Take Off,

Mercedes-AMG-GT-Coup1.jpgFor the most part of my life, I had never been interested in cars. I had no interest in going to the gym, or anything that could over-express my masculinity. In the contrary, my friends and I were all some sort of “Eastern intellectuals”, indoor geeks delighting in music and girls. Girls. I think it is important to lay a stress under this word. We were all too afraid to scare women that we would have better traded our masculinity than hurting a girl (who were, especially at that time awfully easy to hurt, for some reason, go figure) . But it was only years later that I discovered that

For a man, his masculinity is his identity.

By the way I’m “manspreading” right now, at the very moment I’m writing this article. I hear it was a controversial term, for a controversial natural posture, but what is natural anymore on this planet? Oops it can spark controversy.

This is bullcrap.

And now that I’m leaving slamming the door from the Matrix, I realize all the time and efforts, money, emotional dollars, and intellectual sweat I poured in trying to please girls.

The reason why most of my friends and I were so almost idolising women is, in my opinion that

We either were all raised by single mother, or that the mother had a predominant role in the family or in the story of the kid.

What I mean by that is death, breakdowns etc. I’m not saying either that the male should dominate like a tyrant in the family but that in the matter of fact, it is not surprizing to see pathologic worship of women from boys whose family didn’t have a balance between father and mother.

Again, it is all about balance.

So we worked hard to be the most unmanly men in order to not scare women off, we were the nicest and compassionate,

The result? They hated us.

To be honest, we were not all nice, but still we tried or best to avoid the most “oppressive” symbols of masculinity. The answer?

“Oh I want a manly men!”

And they went off serving as sex object, getting pregnant and aborting alone, losing jobs and money, partying like zoo animal, aging before the time because of their lifestyle. And then after they’ve collected a whole boatload of baggages and sometimes kids, that they hit the wall full speed head first because they drinks and smoke that they come to saying “Hi Plan B, what about we having kids?” She says that to you who have been working hard to be in the comfortable situation your are in, or working towards it, and most importantly having the mindset, honor, freedom and spiritual elevation that you see fit for the man you wanna be. Your answer is simply

No.

I would never do this before, just saying no. That was something unbelievable to me. If she had a question, doubt, fear, hesitation, insecurity I was there to be the white knight and take the bullet for her.

Screw that.

And it made sense to me, but now I just wonder

Why.

What should I get from that? What did I get from that when I used to do it?

Nothing.

And although I was trying to be the most harmless guy (although I broke some hearts, but what? I should have acted like a prostitute and stay with these girls although I dodged bullets by not staying with girls that would have ended my life with a passionate crime if I don’t wanna have an army of tattooed blue-haired witches coming after me with their logic-defying speeches? Screw that. Screw your tattoos, screw your blue hairs, screw your foul mouths, get yourself some toothpaste for goodness sake!) No seriously what did I get?

I don’t know, but I know what I got when I took off. Freedom.

So now I manspread, again and screw you. I wanna hit the gym, my main answers to women are “No.” and “I DON’T know.” (and screw you also). I think about ME, MY evolution, MY needs, MY desires (and screw you, you’re welcome) But what surprized me the most is my sudden interest in car.

Cars have become the supreme way for me to express my masculinity, my emancipation and my freedom.

My dream car is now the Mercedes AMG GTR, with it I flee from this corrupt word, and go my own way. I’ll work hard for it.

Retake your Freedom,

S-A (Stay Awesome)

PBx

PS: I want the silver Mercedes AMG GTR though.