Monday, July 25, 2016

The Itch of Bloody Antlers, Bone Rubbed Raw Against A Tree

Dear K,

Did you know that I can be very good at talking to women? In the last few weeks I've had phone numbers thrust on me. I've had women approach me. It's strange. This is new for me. I feel no different. I don't feel as if I've changed one bit in my whole life. I'm just hopeless. I think that might be the cause. I don't care about what happens with any of these women. I'm not ready to fall in love again. I don't want them to fall in love with me, and still I write pretty things and do pretty things and wear pretty clothes.

Without meaning to I've built a career out of being a heartbreaker. Once at a party, before we were dating, my most recent ex heard me say "I'm just a lone wolf looking for my next prey." She thought I was being serious. I've never felt like a wolf. My last name means Fawn in German. I'm the thing that wolves eat. I'm supposed to be easy prey. I've always thrown myself at the best wolves. I guess somewhere along the way I grew antlers.

Nothing I can do about the past though. Nothing anyone can do about it. It's there, it happened, it's gone, we move on and on. Endlessly forward down the stream, and we can't ever see what's around the next bend. So I'm going to charge, and use all my strengths, and be myself and be fully myself and I won't worry about who I've hurt or how much I've hurt them anymore. They're all grown and gone from me anyway, and if they can't get over a little fawn like me then, what's the point in being a wolf?

Antlers down,

K

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