Hating Desire

 

If only we could trust people, to reflect their Desires. People searching their eyes
For the person, they dreamed to be.
If not for Desire...

Desire- Is A mirror of loss.

 

It was not the first time. Not the first time, I
had awoken to a new reality. A reality I did not trust, for its desertion of the truth. A reality that left me trading myself for people and the souls- they could not fill. The prism of Desire that angles A soul.

 

I hate this story. I hate it because it reminds
me of a time, in which - I hated myself. A fleeting moment never abandoning my side. Measuring the beliefs that threw me from side to side, with abandon. A moment in time veiled by desire, masked with hate.

Only, I have never hated anyone. I only
desired reflections to mirror the people standing before them. Hating the angles, that fool my perceptions. Never bothering to triangulate my own coordinates.

 

But. This is not a story about hate. This is a
story of loss. A loss , I once coloured with A hate that echoed
from within. A hate, I mistook for love enemy. Just as I
mistook Desire rival, for my disgust. Disgust for Desire
ravenous pangs. Hungers that never quelled people needs, only overshadowed my own. So, I buried my fading Desires deep beneath the hate, I cheated them with. Undressing each layered facade with love feverish impatience.

Starving for mirrors to reveal the truth. The
stain glassed blur of my reality light, fogged every Desire - I never dared dream . Desire feeds a hunger starved of truth. An emptiness begging to be filled needs, we could not see . Insidious amalgamations bleeding the misconceptions, we once yearned for. Only for life to undress each day, revealing the naked soul looking back at us.

A Lifetime, angled by reflections that used our
eyes to lie for us So, I Desired nothing. I loathed Desire
price. Shunned its’ insatiables. The needy hologramed self- images, spending my Dad time. My Dad’s money. My Dad’s life. I trusted no one. I styled my Desires with the same indifference as the haute coutured people, that decorated my life. Desire’s hunger mirroring the very gluttons, feeding my famine. 

Dad asked me that day- The day that I overdosed.

How can you live your life, without considering your own
family? How can you be so selfish?. I looked at my Dad, only
to find myself looking back. Desire’s reflection mimicking my
loss with acutely angled pain. My hate shining from beneath Dad’s hazeled eyes. It’s easy Dad, I said. I act like you.
The most precisely angled mirror, ever to invade my, spectrum of light. Thirsty Desires crystalizing beneath the tears,glazing my Dads eyes.
I desired his love. I Desired it; Just as Dad Desired success.
Enough success to quench the deserts of life, that can parch a soul.

 

Hate is transparent. Mirroring visions that hold
no trace of ourselves. Hate is the lie that introduces us to
truths, we had never wanted to know. Robbed of my Desires, contesting their myth. Blinded by a loss that delivered me from truth. I looked up to a love I hated,
almost as much as- I desired it. Hate spreading the distance between the person
I Desired to meet in the lonely moments . And the stranger following,
in the shadows that delivered me from light.

 

People mistake hate as being love’s opposition.
The angles that triangulate our position. Triangulations of our reality, our needs, and their distance from the soul that regards them. Angles triangulated by sharp incidences of loss. The steep desires they breed. And the person we meet, looking back at us. Hate’s antithesis- Is indifference. Reality- A mirror
refracting angles. Angles that position our views. The reflection before me that day. My mirror. It angled my Dad’s vertical horizons fuelled by Desire- With perfect adjacency. The very Desire that fed my Dad’s life and soul. The Desire that feeds me- Still. Filling me in the hungry moments that still leave me starved

 

It was the first time. The first time, I awoke to
my reality. A reality I trust, for its desertion of lies . A
reality that teaches me never to trade myself for people and the souls- they cannot fill. The prism of Desire angles A soul.

If only we could trust people, to reflect their Desires. People searching their eyes
For the person, they used to be.
If not for Desire

Desire- Is A mirror of loss. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I grew up traveling — Living in Turkey, Switzerland, Hong Kong, Singapore, New York City, Paris, India, and now, London.  By any standard, I have been afforded an extremely privileged life.   Although, I did not always view my dad’s success as the gift that everyone has envied us and used us for.  Rather, I felt angry at these people. The ones that wined and dined with us endlessly, in honour of my dad’s fight, more than they ever cared to fight for their own. For many years, I felt it safer to exonerate myself altogether.  This is when I first began to write the words no one else would dare say.  The first time I would be able to speak and hear words I trusted.  In my experience, assets that depreciate, be it money, beauty, or fame; They never offer the same returns, as the ones that we earn.  That is why all my dad’s friends miss our homes — more than my dad. 

After studying pre-law, criminology, business management, mid-evil philosophy, African-American literature and education, I could not bring myself to be a prosecutor after all. Perhaps I needed to fight for my truth, more than anyone else’s. -- Alex Steiner