marrakech

crazy, silly sad banana

what are you doing?

why does it matter that it wasn't you? but she has the same name, isn't that strange on some level?

europe, yourope was yours..why do you want more now, now that it's not possible anyway...
would you want it to be possible?

i don't know what i want, says banana...but i do know. I want to stop somewhere, with one particular someone, and i want to stop wankering after the past. it just fucks me up somewhere in my dark core where sad patheticy (as timea would say, is that even a word?) lies, I want to stop being jealous of people and places in which i no longer have a say.

silly, sad banana, when will you be happy?

and all the twinkling view of the southern cross will only remind me tonight of what a monster i was. shame and knowing and sorry. i wish i was different then.

would things have been different then, would things have turned out differently, if i had been honest ande true and if he had made a decent effort? would i have wanted things differently?
No. I know that now. But why does it still sting like lemon juice in a rotten knife wound? Why can't i be happy that he's doing all the things he coulnd't do with me?

Andrew would say: stop feeling sorry for yourself, and I have no reason to feel sorry, this is true...

sad, silly banana...