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He grimaced (short prose)
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chithappens
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He grimaced (short prose)

He grimaced. Shifted position. Rubbed the side of his face, his hand grazing against the razor bumps. Shit. Nothing was helping this writer’s block or his razor bumps which were also causing discoloration around both cheeks and under the chin. In Aaron’s opinion, his most handsome days were behind him. This wasn’t necessarily true – he still got plenty of attention from the opposite sex, much of it unwanted. The years had turned this fun loving gentleman into a bitter pessimist who, according to his rationale, had become too dependent on the perception others had of him. Held back his athletic, poetic, and philosophic talents because of others; held back his own mind, not wanting to blow past his own peers. Being gifted at anything offers two main perils: being praised and being hated. Either strangers, “friends”, and family alike were going to suck his dick for being a “great” guy, or curse him for any better than them at whatever attribute. It is the reason a woman of exquisite beauty is more likely to feel real love with a man who either scorns her or acts as if she her looks do not matter – he seems not to want her only for exterior. Not always the case since these cases happen with either a rich guy who is always around beautiful women or with a gentleman who actually cares, although the first choice is usually the scenario, but the variables allowed for so many situations that Aaron always just kept everything generally pessimistic; kept him from being surprised or being hurt too often, learned late but better than not at all. Really, do I have to think like this all the time?

He got up and scratched at his crotch, erect. Aaron couldn’t help but laugh at his abnormality, waving like a young Jedi who couldn’t quite control the force. The average man is six and a half inches while erect and his candy cane was beyond this measurement when the young lad was thirteen years old. Marcellus always took pride in this. He was only five feet, five inches in height so the first assumption of him would always be that he was lacking in the area. The joke had never bothered him until a month ago. Aaron knew he was packing so he took no offense and often laughed along. When Ms. Smith made that joke that last time, Aaron almost blew a gasket. He was unstable, needy and depressed. Letting something that small upset him only made him more irate at self: When did I become so vulnerable, so weak? I got to get my shit together.

Then Jasmine suddenly called. No point in going into all the details about how stunning she was. Aaron had never put her completely out of his mind. The way they had previously stopped talking seemed forced, almost destined. It was almost two years ago and it still stung in Aaron’s mind for several reasons.It was like a tease - here’s a woman of perfection: diligent, smart, well spoken, well defined in mind, physically as fine as you could ever desire, but you can only imagine what it’s like to be in her presence. That’s what the gods or God said to me. What an ass (hole)! After a long departure, she had actually called and wanted to start a relationship again. Jasmine said she loved Aaron, said she had recently left a boyfriend for him. Aaron was skeptical of the entire thing. He didn’t want to believe it. The repetition of hurt he continued to go through just didn’t seem to follow through here. There was no reward for the celibacy he went through after his “Whore” stage, no respect by some metaphysical being for his return to roots of chivalry. Nope, this had never been a game of karma. Aaron was walking down Bullshit Avenue. This street has no turns, no exits – just a straight pre-determined path to bitterness. But maybe something had made a path; he took what looked like a detour. He tried to tell Jasmine why he seemed so needy, what bothered him in his life, how he wanted to be there for her and her son. What he found instead was fool’s gold. Jasmine was always busy, she never had time to hear his story. She would call Aaron maybe once a week and say things came up. In time he understood what was happening. He continued to pursue, say he loved her. Denial. He cried. Anger. He tried to tell her change or it would end. Desperation.

In hindsight, he knew it was hopeless even then. Foresight offered a consolation no better. He could never have her, ever. Maybe it was the best for the both of them. Aaron thought it was just odd. He knew that Jasmine did not need anymore Hell from him, better translated as begging. Try as he might, he could never forget her. She was the first woman he ever thought of as perfect (for him). It hurt to let go. No articulation can make that any more thorough. He listened to the decrescendo of Jasmine’s voice in his mind one more time.

“Marcellus, I love you! Muahh!” And he forgot.


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Old Post Jun 24th, 2007 04:43 PM
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