The Scent Of illusion
I went to the cafe to see my friend. It was a marvelous day, blue sky and strong wind. Our talk couldn’t have been more interesting. Jess, my friend’s nickname, looked into space when opening up the mystery of her love life.
This is what she shared:
“I find men fascinating. You know why? Because they are. A lot of intellectual, intelligent, brilliant men find me very intriguing. Judging objectively, yes I am. I am dynamic, versatile; by all means, it is hard to get me. I know that, and that’s why I try my best to unknot my complexity. But so far, we get to some level of understanding; we can’t get too close. But I feel like they get me. And then, this is flipping crazy, I tell you that much. Guess who understands me with little of words? Like I don’t have to say much. They just look at me and know me deep down. The type that is repulsed by education. Their speeches are not polish, but direct. These people are not interested in sharing deep insight or ideology. They are the working type. Very grounded and practical. After a certain time, I found out that if they want, they can always share profound thought. Then, I realized something very important. To the first type of men, I am impartial in my conversations. Maybe that’s why we can’t be intimate. However, we understand each other’s differences very well. The second trace of men, they see me as a person without the complication. That makes me excited in talking about myself. But more and more, they just get sick of me. At the end, I am empty handed. The one who likes my outfit doesn’t see my hand and the one who see my hand takes no care in my outfit. I need both. Both. It kills me.”
“You like perfection. Don’t you, Jess?”
“I don’t know what I like. But whenever it happens, I have a deep sense of disappointment. I feel like noone understands me. There should be at least someone out there who will take me as I am.”
“Jess. These are all excuses for you, materials you draw out in order to fulfill your work. I don’t think you are interested in either type. But you need to feel the fire. It motivates you into creating your best work.”
“I don’t care about work. I still am not understand this fact, why the working type can see into me and yet, get bored of me. Am I that disgusting as a person? What do you see in me?”
“I do not think you are disgusting at all. The reason why they can see you without your intrigues is because they have no interest in illusion. And because of it, when you keep orchestrating complication into reality, they have a strong need to fight or flight. But admit to me, you don’t really like these men. You think you do but what you like, ultimately, is to return to art and use this as a force to carry you further into the paradoxes of the human heart. You create the best in such condition. You crave difficulty, adversity, challenge. So you get yourself in, in order to take you out, in the most tried way. Tell me if I am wrong!”
“Can we be lovers?”
In love with her cultivated illusion for the longest time, I had to say no to this.