The Reporter (Part 2)

Hi there, I'm Luna and it seems happiness doesn't work on me! For some reason, it flies by but never land on my turf. So cheers, dear reader, to this awesome, perfect guy who doesn't know what he's missing out because I don't even know myself!

I'm many things but being an optimistic isn't one of them! Realistic is more my definition. I observe, I calculate and I stock in my brain informations, facts and events. I had many versions of myself living in me for the past 2 decades. However, the only constant in my life has always been the fact that I can't find someone who likes or loves me enough to stay around longer than it takes to say ''I love you''. And please don't serve me the crap when you say : ''We, your friends and your family, love you and yadiyadiya''!! It's not the same! I know you're trying to help, but, respectfully, it doesn't!

Remember in part one, I was so excited, so caught up in this web of lies that I made for myself that I really thought for a split second I was going to have a happy ending for once. Haha (slow clap), I'm still laughing about it! So here's the thing, I'm the kind of realistic that doesn't dream further than a foot ahead, because I anticipate backlash all the time. All my moments of happiness, were tinted by bad luck. And I mean ALL OF THEM, it's kind of pathetic! As a reflection of all that, I'm using the balloon analogy to explain various situations.

Here's my concept : The balloon is your level of optimism and the string attached to it is the level of realism. If we apply this to my situation, for instance, it would translate like that : ''Charles (the reporter) is my balloon, the string would be the expectation of what is coming next''. Supposing I'm really happy for a moment, it leads me to let the string slip off my hand so the ballon goes higher and higher without limitation. In order to control the imminent fall, I, time to time, pull down the balloon closer to the ground to keep my expectations low as possible. You see, eventually the balloon will burst and it won't hurt as much as if it was up high in the sky (backlash remember?). It's a way to protect myself, but on the other side, it means I never live life to its fullest.

Now, dear reader, that you understand my process a little bit more, let's talk about the reporter. After he came back from his trip, I was really glad, ecstatic, frantic to see him after a long week of mental torture. I was so sure it was my turn at being happy that I felt like a million bucks when he replied he was coming to my Halloween event. The night went more than great. He seemed more open and it felt good! What an idiot I was.

Remember when I said in the first part : ''I'm afraid to let myself fall head over hill for him, because falling, for me, always rhymed with hurting'' I must be a fucking psychic 'cause the minute I let myself believe I had an actual shot at this, I received a big fat punch in the throat. So now I can't breathe and I'm so damn angry at myself for releasing all the way up that motherfucker of a balloon ('cause yah, it went up there for about 2 days). I keep repeating myself that I'm a good person and I don't deserve that much shit, but I'm not sure I believe that anymore, if I ever did! Truthfully, I feel like disappearing and I don't think it would make a big difference here...My life is a boat without passengers in it, I can't go anywhere 'cause I don't have any money, I can't buy nice stuff for the same reason, I can't find anyone who's willing to love me for 2 seconds before running for the hills, I can't even grab a piece of happiness since its always slipping away. What place do I have? It seems I don't fit anywhere. Bright side, at least I have great friends to pick me up when I'm shattered into pieces!

So if you really want to know what I'm thinking about when I drift away in my thoughts, since you always ask. Well...nothing great you see! That's what's always in my head, all the fucking time and it's pressuring my chest.

So now that you know what's deep down in my mind...Back to you Charles...you motherfucker!