Category Archives: Memoirs

Memoirs of a fling….(Day 2)

Lies aren’t always bad.

“Do you care about me?”

I could have been honest and said no. Well, not no in the literal sense, but in the sense that the question was derived. You see, being the analytical minded person that I am, I knew she meant in the romantic sense or loving sense. Not in the sentiment that one would care for any fellow human. Because, the answer was just that, I care no more for her than any other person.

But what was my answer?

“Yes,” of course.  I don’t know if the lie went detected or if it mattered for that matter.  I think that was all she wanted to hear anyhow.  The manner in which she would provide me with all types of unwarranted affection assured me of it

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Memoirs of a Christian on the edge… (an unfortunate Messiah)

I’m in the midst of one of my faith lapses. You know, one of those periods when I’m feeling deprived of divine presence. I feel drunk with the ambiguity of ethereal incentive. And what do you know. Out of all the days I volunteered at Jonesboro Middle School–he had to choose this day.

He had to choose this day to purge his little soul to me!

Rather, his ideal of identity to me. As though, of all people, I had the answer. What force drove him to gravitate towards me on this most auspicious of days.

“Why doesn’t God love me…Why doesn’t he love me like he does all the other families?”

And I had a good idea as to where he was coming from. I had a general understanding of the boys unfortunate background and troubled lot in life. I knew he simply wanted reassurance–encouragement that a father figure would generally invoke, but as deprived as he was of such he decided to seek this role from me.

But, he simple chose the wrong day. The most pivotal of times in a boys life, I suppose it was imminent though. Truth has an awkward way of presenting itself. I knew the appropriate thing to say, but this came out,

“Well…Maybe you should find a new God…Yours doesn’t seem to work any more.”

And I didn’t mean it like it came out, but the way he looked at me conveyed everything. He didn’t look away; he didn’t panic; a tear graced from his eye, yet he remained stoic. But unjustly on some level he understood what I meant. Of course God doesn’t love you or me. God loves his own and that’s it. Right? Only his own. He makes his own happy.

Not the likes of you and me.

Memoirs of a fling….(Day 1)

I often lay next to her in complete angst. Our bodies emanating a warmth that laid dormant within. My ego assuaged but my conscience strained. She would give me unwarranted affection. She would make me feel as though I was special, but in reality I couldn’t be special. At least not towards her.

“I feel secure and at home when you hold me like this.”

It was the statements like this that provided the paradox. How could you feel at home in the arms of a stranger? I derived the conclusion that she really didn’t care who’s face belonged to the arms that she was encrusted in. She simply wanted warmth and a face. A face that she could entrust and love. A face that she could emerge herself in and find solace, in hopes of fleeing her exaggerate feeling of being alone.

Any face would do.

And for this moment, I just so happen to be that face. And who I am has little relevance to anyone.

–Least of all her. You see, her and I create a quandary. Not quite lovers for no intercourse has been exchanged. Although, that may be desired mutually by both parties. It has yet to occur and may never. Not quite friends for not enough information has been exchanged. From her to I a profuse amount of information has been exchanged. From me to her, not so much.