In The Pearl Orchard

You describe it.

What does it feel like to be cheated? I don’t think I could ever possibly just explain it to you. It’s a type of betrayal, the dictionary definition won’t get it for you either. The sensation lasts almost a lifetime. It’s not pleasant. I guess the first time I was ever cheated was through my conception, I know. Quite the joke, well I have reason. I shouldn’t have happened like I did. I’m a mistake, my mother would say no she “loves me”, love. Just another word with no one clear definition.

How do you love something you can never be accustomed to, don’t lie to me mother I know you never cared for me, you’ve never accepted me for who I am. You’d have preferred your perfect child named Andrew whom you had after you graduated from college. I guess thanks to you and my “father” I was cheated from stability. But I guess it’s good I know I can’t stand on my own, know yourself, right? I think it’s funny how your love ironically lead me to that which you hate, and though I am not lost I keep wandering. I hate you mother, just as you love me.

Father, Dad. No not one person, two entirely different people who could just as easily be the same to me, I think I understand you ladies, all men are pigs. Myself included. You will never see past your ego dad and you will never see past yourself father. I’m surprised you sense me in the room at all, at least mom could see well, have a carrot. Full lock on my own emotions, I can’t sense anything except by laughing, because when your whole life is a joke you accept that your death will be the punch line and you prepare for an equally great laugh, you’re always making jokes father, dad. I’m glad I got your sense of humor, you gave me something at least. Maybe we’ll spend more time when you can even accept I’m in the room. For now good riddance.

A cobbler, a prankster and a model all walk into a bar. Where’s the punchline in this one, they all played you for the joke. They walk into this hollow abyss and seem to somehow find more to take from it, so maybe in a sense I have more to offer than I know. Maybe that’s the joke. I can always give but never to myself. Cobblers teach you to love and explore new things while they give away your trust and desires to others, you’ll always depend on the cobbler however, I mean who’ll tend to your soul if not. The prankster, they will teach you to laugh at something other than yourself, but they will never understand that in the circle you call your life, that undying ,wrenching loop of comedy you just want to stop laughing. When will I stop laughing, let me cry for once. Maybe the gorgeous will show you how to cry, after all we tend to cry for what things are most beautiful in life to you. When you can see no beauty in yourself you will look to the sky and pray, maybe not to god, but to all that you find beautiful and pure. Something you found so utterly unique and perfect that you’ll wish it’d cry with you just to feel a connection. But that’ll never happen and you know that. After all, those beautiful thoughts tend to stay in your mind and does that mean they even exist? So when you do cry, and you will cry for the model. You will know she never cared, and you cared for nothing.