I think once I have my own place that I can do what I like with, I think I’ll decorate one room with leis. Pink and yellow specifically. They have a cheerfulness about them that eases my mind. And large pillows. Everywhere. Large soft pillows. I want a room that is practical in absolutely no way.
That’s how easy it is with dreams isn’t it? You can decide anything without a thought. Change things at will, and live just on whim. Reality is much more difficult. My bedroom looks like a closet threw up on it, I’m eating cold sandwich turkey out of the package and morning seems a long way off. At least Sinatra is on my stereo. I guess he’s my little bit of whimsy in this madness. I sound bitter, and maybe I am. Reality sucks.
I have a Cosmo on the bed beside me. Honestly I love the magazine but the titles well, -THE SEX He’ll die for- A dirty little secret you never hear about marriage- 9 LOVE LIES Guys tell- Turn your man into a YOU pleasing sex genius- CAUGHT with their pants down- it sickens a little. My head hurts reading the titles and looking at the starlet so perfectly posed on the cover; this is not what love is.
Sex sells. It’s eye catching, trendy, risqué, whatever. Love is an after-thought. It’s the “whoops!” that comes later. “Didn’t mean to have feelings for you sir!” it’s usually an accident. And it leaves us broken, searching for answers and only finding “THE SEX he’ll die for”. What a healthy world.
