January 21st, Year 21

Has it been a lifetime? Have I died and come back as something less than a ghost?

Technology evolved; it has become a bigger and more powerful invention, than the inventor. I exist through it, because of it. At some point, I forgot how to interact with the world, how to engage someone of interest. This way, in front of a computer screen, far above and beyond the possibility of actual risk, I am safe. There are no more lesions, only scars which are hidden under layers of clothing that will never come off, because I am modest or ashamed.

First, there was Justin. I found him when I wasn’t even looking. A fair man, a country away. British heart, a liar hard. There is no point in describing him further. It’s all keyboards, and the security of distance. We will never meet. Dates are set, but intention rests, exhausted by past efforts, which proved to be failures. Efforts that came before I knew of Justin’s existence.

 
He and I, we speak on the phone. His voice is as deep, as it is beautiful. Somehow, it also manages to be soft. Like a heavy, but smooth rock. In those moments, when we laugh as if we are old friends, that know one another too well to ever be insincere, I wish it had all been different.

Then, there is Eli. Another man that exists, only in pictures. Of him, there is less to say. He is a man with a superiority complex, and not much substance. His beauty is all cotton dyed beautifully, and antique buttons. An almost dandy, in modern times. Eli says such things which he believes to be poetic, but it’s all so contrived. They are things that have been said a million times over, by better men.

I wonder if people are actually satisfied by this type of interaction. We have all become so afraid of reality.

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January 21st, Year 21

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