Was it? Or was it standard? No one knew. But it seem some people do. But I don’t. I don’t because I don’t want to. And that’s it. End of discussion.
I stared hard long enough to burn a hole. Why? Why was it always me, figuring out exactly what people’s thought were, even when they’re trying real fucking hard to conceive it? So I waited. I waited because I wasn’t going to let her know. Dealing with her bullshit? Well, I wasn’t going to buckle for an inch.
One boss once said: when you have a woman, cherish her. And another one said: it is not the woman that counts, it is all her character. And I love the first man, but I wasn’t going to listen to him. At least for now. And for the second man? Well, I have to say a big thanks. Because he was helping me right now. Character. Concerning Charity. Someone need to open his skull.
Women were all wonderful. All beautifully created. Wiser than the wisest. But they were easily colluded. Highly easier to flows with. But not in a millions perspective. Just single frame: they were dumb! And for their being dumb? Well, it depends on which side you are.
Women will leave you and be taking care of another man. And they can leave another man and be taking care of you. Depends on which end. BUT there’s another end: Women use men.
Not your typical go to. Not your exponential dearie. But your ultimate smart girl. A lady at twenty-two, might as well be your mother. Depending on the character. If she play it save, well, you might look little like a king. Or like a brilliant husband. Or an husband to be. But if she play it rough, well, you might just end up being burnt. But what if she go gaga? Your guess? You’re going to end up with a scar, probably bigger than a hole. And it’s going to hunt you down. So I waited. I waited because I didn’t want to get burned. Nor the ugly big scar. And probably I wasn’t going to be the brilliant husband. And to hell with an husband to be. I want to be the real demon. The devil that women go to. The boss.
And to the fool calling himself a man, when in reality, he was just a woman’s play things? I want him to keep on hustling. Struggling and grinding. Until he can figure out the shit. But by then it can be too late. So I waited.
And I was waiting really hard. Because I wasn’t going to buckle. This time, it is me dealing with women. Not women dealing with me. Love or no love. I wasn’t going to get burned. I’m going to be the head. The top of all woman’s game. THE GAME! I’m Going To Be The Game.
I settled down in a corner. Far back facing the crowd. Ordered what I always order. Get a mouthful of caffeine, and your body is taking orders. Take another mouthful, and you’re now writing a letter to a brilliant thinking. Take it repeatedly, and you’re now turning a badass. And the badass itself never stop at a thousand mouthful. Because nothing is clever than a man who still manages to think, upon his inner sufferings.
Charity. Not my dream girl. But the woman I like. And now she was liking someone else. I smiled. Women. Women and feelings, they’re always hand in hand. When they love you, they can cross a billion oceans. But when the table got turned. When you’ve been the one loving them. And they’re not loving you in return. Rest assured, your life is in a deep mess.
So I’ve learned my lesson: love women, but know exactly when to shot the fuck out.
Lake Chass. The most unbearable Lake Chass. A.k.a, (I Am Lasisi .Com).
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