Kaysersberg, France (by etoma)
I Can Hide Out Here On Tumblr.

Only Like 5 People Ever Read What I Write.

Observations From A Nigga On The Sidelines

I Wonder What It’s Like To Feel Fully.  To Fully Feel.

For A Nigga Who’s Been On The Sidelines As Long As I Have, It Gives You Ample Opportunity To Think Some Things Through.

Sometimes I Wonder How Beautiful Women End Up With Cornballs.

Sometimes I Wonder How Beautiful Women End Up Alone.

Sometimes I Wonder How Ain’t Shit Niggas End Up With Are Shit Women.

Sometimes I Wonder…

These Are Pretty Much The Only Luxuries Afforded To A Nigga On The Sidelines. (Once Polyamory Becomes A Chore)

There’s Gotta Be A Certain Level Of Privilege Afforded To The Cats Who Treat Women Like Shit. Don’t Know If It’s Because They Feel Like Their Time Is More Valuable Than Their Woman’s Time (So Taking Everything For Granted Becomes A Daily Routine, Maybe). Or It Could Be That They Think They Can Get Any Other Somebody At The Drop Of A #Dime? (Probably)(#nopun).

Whatever The Answer To Those ?’s, [Universally Asked Only By Niggas On The Sidelines]  I Can’t Imagine It Making Much Sense Beyond The Realm Of Logical Thinking.

But I Guess There Is Little Logic In Love.

In A Semi-Related Tangent, Some People Say: "It’s Better To Have Loved And Lost, Than To Never Have Loved At All" 

That Quote May Be True To An Extent, But There’s A Certain Rotting That’s Not Accounted For Once The Love Gets Lost. In My Instance, Love Doesn’t Dress In The Form Of Ethereal Wonderment, It Comes In The Form Of Simple Pleasures: Connection. Conversation. Friendship, And All Of The Other Stimulants Needed To Build The Very Big x Very Expensive “Chateau d’Amour” That Sells So Well In Theaters.

There’s Only One Real Winner In That Quote Anyway You Slice It And It’s The People Who Are Still In Love.

For People Have Never Been Fully Loved, Or Have Had The Opportunity To Fully Love, You’re Always In A Constant State Of “What If?” And Even If You’ve Trumped The Personal x Emotional Mountains That Deal With Being Worthy Enough, There’s Still A “Why Not Me?” Component That Is All But Impossible To Get Up x Over.

For The People Who Have Tasted Love Only To Watch It Escape Their Tongues, You Spend Every New Day Chasing A Feeling You Know To Exist, But Can Never Truly Replicate. It’s A Haunting Addiction That Can Paralyze You And Make It Harder To Open Yourself Up To The Point Where That Drug Can Again Find Your Being Habitable.

It Sucks Mostly Because You Know What Stimulating Conversation, Palpable Connection, And Friendships (Or More) Can Do, And Yet Here You Are Wallowing Away Either Talking To Dumb People Who Make You Wonder How They Made It This Far In Life, Or Stuck With Yourself x The Many Internal Battles That That Ultimately Brings.

And That May Be The Shittier Option Of The Two. You Don’t Really Know How Good Or Bad You Are At Life, At Love, And At Expressing Emotion If You’re Always By Yourself. It’s Like Constantly Running Scrimmages Against Your Own Team. You Can’t Really Anticipate Game Speed If You’re Not Playing In A Real Game. And It’ll Reach A Boiling Point Where You’re Tired Of Seeing The Same Face Over x Over. You Wanna Put The Pads On And Hit Someone Else For A Change…Metaphorically Speaking.

So I Guess That Leaves Us Here, Where It Has Always Left Us. The Only Place That You Find Solace In x Can Get Something At Least Semi-Tangible From: The Written Word. When All Else Fails, Write Some Shit Down And See If It Sticks, See What Comes Of It. Things May Not Always Change Outwardly, But There’s Something Stirring Inside That May Yet Resemble That Ethereal Thing You’re Chasing.

Like Most Of My Writing, This May Only Make Sense To Me. I Like To Be Selfish In That Way. Cause No Matter What, It’s The One Love I Can Truly Always Depend On.

3 Of My Favorite Things