By Melanie Pariat
The 3 shades of remarkable justice that goes by the name of —
Wealth-The idealistic Prince Charming
Wealth laid his guard down, gallantly trotted with his army of generosity. He welcomed many in his Old Summer Castle; I never got tired describing him as the modern day Gatsby.
Wealth had the most inexperienced nature bagged with predictable promises; his amateur courtship followed with humorous business tales; his imperfect words precariously yearned for my temporary love…
His Rings of Charm swept young damsels off their feet, they call him by many wonders. As for me? I loved his smile- it lacked guile; and not what he owned. His impersonated laughter kept me on the loop, reading him was a house of tarot cards- ‘uncalculated risks and half promises’ was what I read, “Wealth will never step out of his comfort zone”, was exactly how I felt.
His humble soul had a harmless flow that profited my attention and his goals. But his intentions became clearer, he needed more to be more and I had to constantly be the most. His words spoke of commitment but his actions gallivanted towards alluring women who come with inheritance. Wealth was thrilling but not too dangerous; I secretly lost my way underneath his heart’s policy.
I loved Wealth, but found ‘me’ less.
Fame-The Jack of all Trades
Fame was the longest indulgence that’s ever stayed, a beautiful disaster ruled by the Rocks of mercury governed by the spotlight of a tilted stage. Fame skis his options more than carefully, his intelligent camera eyes captures the strangest spiritual insights. Fame spots the con artists, blackmailers and thieves- he spades open to a higher wisdom leaving them with a personal choice, the destiny of a make or break identity.
If fame were a man, it’d borrow his traits- all hands on deck with a slow killing win, what can I say? He started as a young charismatic man whose intentions were well hidden under the deals of void and pain. If poker were a man he’d fall prey to the feast of Fame, he’ll keep you burning till you go absolutely insane.
Fame wears his celebrity skin jacket with a pocket full of well wishers- one by one, a wish or two bows before 62 seconds of fame; He strummed the desperate hearts of visionaries by engaging them under the powerful beats of his novelty. His album read, “Be careful what you wish for”, that’s 62 seconds of concealed, screaming slavery…
I loved Fame but I couldn’t see ‘me’ anymore.
Love-The unplanned Mr Playwright
Love’s dark shaded eyes of despair and pain profoundly infused with desirable passion. A solitary chaos lurking around powerful women who’d easily fall prey to his vulnerability. A mess that he claims to be, who runs for shelter under the roof of self pettiness. So convincingly wraps himself in helplessness with a handful of balanced insecurities, perfected speech of lies weighed down by emotional politics.
The only substance that kept me breathing, or so I thought, was my imprinted delusional purpose to mend his brokenness where he excitedly sets his trap checked between the pages of his score sheet to Casanova his way to the top.
Love was well spoken in many words of love making. However, never intriguing enough to fill my mental exaltation. He was blinded by the fire he saw in every woman, ‘a hectic lover’ was how I described him- He couldn’t care less but lust many creations. He thought too much and refrained love too little- but the lesson did just the opposite, Love taught me to love less than minimal.
His hellish vision caused me to desire pain and hunger that mapped to a broken sadistic road end… Love seduces as he sings the solo tune of his indecisive promises, a performance presenting ‘Love and his perfect crime’ in The Evening Circus where he hunts for his next victim. I lost all ground when I laid my eyes on him- shabby, polite, rugged with innocence was his clothing. But the Circus rules applied, “only Love plays these games”.
Thoughts that float into passionate toxic fumes kept me gapingly high through sleepless nights, leaving me to feel every rough thumping heartbeat gushing out from my chest- I turned around and said, “I see you”- the keys to my home handed over to him and he mercilessly humiliated my healing sanctuary.
Now I, a vengeful soul lay no rest but proudly stars as the actress in Love’s torturous dreams.
I loved Love but I didn’t love ‘me’ anymore.
#24
Waking up every morning to a good cup of decision made, grateful with drops of emotional relief; equally weighing the wise privileges of handling the murderous 3, aware about the liberty of walking in and out was every girl’s thrilling dream. Each of the three possessed a similar trait- they all loved what they represented. So, my magic pull was to trust the wait and patiently embrace the uncertainty.
Why? Because their tricky cards constantly moved in variables with a blink of an eye. At first glance their attraction lures you under the flashing lights of ‘beginners luck’- But keep playing and you’d lose yourself in the abstract musical clock.
…
Sitting across the table was Life, with the most intimidating poker face- his Casino read, “Man’s World” and I, tightly holding on to the last card of Independence with precise reckoning of the borrowed personalities- Never felt more than strangely powerful but inhabit the complete combination of the ruthless three.
What would you have chosen? The “uncalculated risks and half promises?”, “concealed, screaming slavery?” or “love mercilessly humiliating your healing sanctuary?”
Just when the house victoriously draws the 3- I, Karma decided to sum up the gamble with an unexpected trump card- ‘ME’.
And there it is, The 3 Men I Loved
And maybe, the ones you did too.
(The author is a blogger. For the full article log in to www.melaniepariat.com)