The Real World

Reality is back, with her demanding ways. Bathing in her self-centered adolescent fanciful depravity. Why am I so attracted to her, what Lolita hold does she have on me? I know too many people who seem to pay her little mind. Yet, I wish that for her I could be the one. Still, I am not even “bona fide” in her opinion. Work, bills, holidays, car problems. She draws my attention and cuts to the quip, and I am known for not coloring inside the lines and running with scissors. Yet what irony, that I follow her to my doom.  I look to her in hope that I can be whom I dream. Quoting fragments from lost manuscripts to entice her, “Were we Do what we Want and Want what we Like and Like what we Do”. Hoping to make it my mantra, yet she just laughs and points out that our relationship is but a satire. You ever have one of those days where you feel that you are involved in a tragicomedy? I seem to be having one of those years. “And wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose, Mr Krick?”