Sitting in a cafe, reading, and ranting.

There is a happy couple, giggling and joking and poking each other. They probably are only temporarily so. All they’ve learned are the golds about the partner’s personality. They are young, in school with no real worries. One day they’ll hurt each other in seemingly unbearable ways and then break up. And only their own luck would bring them back together.

There is a girl who sits alone, grumpy at the couple and probably at me sitting across also. The way she wraps her feet suggests that she is insecure, though she has a nice body and face, and a moderately cool hairstyle. A kindle on one side and a book on the other, yet she is confused, not knowing whether she should pay attention to only her own little world, or the space around her, shared by other, annoying cafe customers. Could she anyway?

Here are me and my good friend, two guys who seem to be on a date, sitting together at this nice, quiet, book cafe. How would others think about us? We are just two lonely persons who have nothing better to do in this afternoon, and so are just here minding our own projects and once in a while casually exchanging words that won’t fit into any sorts of topical conversation.

I probably wouldn’t sit here if I could be with someone. A girl, a woman. Holding her in my arms. At any point while I need a distraction from what I am doing I’d kiss her and maybe we’d go forward to making love. Then after some rest I would go back to life totally refreshed and positive.

When I’m affected with emotion I’m very sensitive, speculative and thirsty for all the sexual sensations in the world. Or any other heightened and epic sensations would do. I tend to daydream, imagine my life as of others and I can’t stop. Sometimes I hate who I am.

But I cannot live without emotions and imagination for a long time. I tried. I’d feel empty inside, just looking at the motions. In that stagnant existence I’d just want to run off to a direction, without any particular destination, and die when I’m out of stamina.

Reading brought feelings back. The masterful writers and artist, could take our souls’ hands and take us through expressive stories and scenes and lines of thoughts. And suddenly bit of sensation around us feel so immense. But then I could so easily think about depressing thoughts. And I’m not even depressed about me in particular. I seem to have what could be called a good life. I feel the depress in social settings, in the sufferings of other people, animals and things around me, and a bit in the mere existence of myself, and its effects on others. I feel that all happiness, however long and great, will end and at that moment the sadness would be overwhelming.

"Until someone came and rested a hand lightly on my shoulder, my thoughts were of the sea."

Just ranting.

The happiest I ever was was the time when all I cared about was playing fighting games and Street Fighter, with a focus on winning. For the past 5 years now however, I haven’t been able to feel that way. As I grew older, things like career, relationships, and reality start to matter. I rarely could play and train with any one. Though I learned to appreciate and love the community aspect of it more (love and thanks to the DM, Iowa and the Southfield, Michigan communities in particular even though I was only with them guys for short periods of time), the gravity of reality pulls me hard and Street Fighter became more of a far off, escapade, fantasy, flying island.

But tomorrow I get another chance to do what I truly love to do, to pour my heart out all again. Let nothing stand between just me and the game. Let the confidence and the focus come back. Tomorrow I only want to play, and to fight.

Wish me luck!