When pianos try to be guitars

The fragile understanding I had with F. is slowly turning into the most realistic relationship I have ever had. Unfortunately this also implies the prickliest one.

Last week the entire world was in my left pocket when F. and I celebrated our hedonist side on a clear Sunday evening. In European -white- terms this implies dinner and a movie of course, followed by a session of creative sodomising.

This instant piece of happiness lingered in my mind until the net morning where I left F. in my isolated storage facility-which some people have coe to call "my room"- with an unattended laptop. Of course I knew that when you leave someone who doesn't fully trust/know you in a room filled with evidence that would allow outsiders to retrace your steps and take a dim look at pieces of your personality. In short, F. read all conversations I had with the internet plebeians. Of course without proper context and an explanation by yours truly he saw the miscelaneous words as a form of deception and adultery. Some of his claims were grounded, but most of them were seen outside the context of my volatile personality and opinion on relationships. If I had casual non-mental sex with a person after meeting someone who is yet to be placed in my life, or who is not sure himself what will add up and what won't...I cannot consider this "cheating" on a persone. I can understand the jealousy, the rage and most importantly the hurting after reading this bold brass words...but it proves a fact I have come to accept time and time again: my very concept of living and communicating with people is so untouchable that it often translates into lies and deception...from my point of view I call it "me not trying to hurt people and yet doing the right thing in accordance with my own take on morals"...but others call me a monster...which doesn't hurt, because I understand...and it is from this understanding that I draw my strenght in the end. So is it necessary for people to view me as a monster in order to prevent me from drowning into the cesspit of banality I've come to reject all my life? Because if that is in fact the case it's a paradox how one such as myself could ever become truly happy.

The feelings I've experienced up to now evolved rapidlty...and as they are right now as I am typing this blog entry it has to be said that they have indeed come a long long way...inside a week I've experienced a day of pure fear...followed by regret...a feeling of longing and desire...and then...suddenly my most dreaded emotion reappeared: apathy.

I have to say...that although these feelings are overall perceived as "negative emotions", I've enjoyed every second of them, and I am forced to wonder whether or not this is ethical...or if I care for that matter.

I do believe I enjoy misery, pain and loathing, because it is exciting and it takes attention away from the mundane banality I am currently in. Running away are the keywords, and this is precisely the reason for my escapisme into master degrees and consumerism mentality. Buying things makes me "feel"...whether it is a feeling of "I should not have bought this because I lost a lot of money" or a feeling of "finally I found this", it does not matter to me. The fact there IS a feeling present is more than enough for me.

Typing this at the school I work makes me realize how insecure I am, and how fragile I can be in the outside world. While I cover my persona with lies, deception and mysticism, the real me is actually the skin I wear covered with potential and greatness. To put it simply...I hate reinventing myself towards the outside in order to protect my persona. When things go wrong I put things in MY perspective and stick to my ideas, even if all evidence points to something different...I cannot let go of my protective layer, even if it means lying.

In the context of my work...I am confronted with different personalities on a daily basis. These personalities altogether provide for a different "Yves" each day, which requires a lot of strenght from my part...the work itself becomes circumstantial, which is in turn a reason for disliking whatever task I perform...a curse or simply something that can be solved by obtaining a master's degree?