Tales Unsaid

I saw an old man on the bus. He slowly made his way to a seat in the front. Sat there and gazed through the window. Big vintage glasses. A wool green flat cap sitting on his head. Grocery bag by his feet. I was a few rows behind him on the other side of the bus. He took off his cap with a gentle motion. He softly swept his hand over his head, revealing a crown of white and gray hair. I wanted to sit next to him and listen to his stories. I couldn't stop looking, hypnotized by the old man's aura. A good man aura. A life well lived aura.

Left her when her love for me was at its peak. An easy choice. The logic that led me there was irrefutable. Logic I was capable of reaching thanks to my exceptional intelligence. Early twenties. About to leave my small hometown. The opportunities ahead. Abundance of pussy on the horizon. The voice inside reminding me everyday that I'm missing out. Visions from my deathbed, regretting that I never had Asian pussy. Never had Slavic pussy. Bereft of fulfillment until I try them in all shapes and colors. I had to leave her. It could never have worked. Not with the constant screaming of the voice inside.

My loneliness has no cause and no effect. It's a part of me. A trait, like the color of my eyes. A skill, like playing the piano but in reverse. The piano plays me. I'm good at it. At letting it play me. It brings me peace and pain. Did I choose to be alone, or did loneliness choose to be with me.