a queer night

Went out late last night to talk to Jo, about myself, and well... somehow it led to her. But this post is not about us, but rather her ex.

I only saw him fleetingly at first, then got a good look when he came back later to pick her up.

He looked like a ghost, a fragment, lost. And in that moment I felt such pity for him, such empathy.

I saw a reflection of my past self, a dead human walking, strolling the meaningless streets of life.

God it pains me to talk of this but I think I feel his pain a lot. And I knew what I had to do after we were done discussing me. I had to help. Her. Him. It didn't fucking matter.

So this is probably where I set myself apart from the large majority of humanity, I think and feel, simultaneously. They work hand-in-hand, a tag team of brilliant efficiency. The ability to decipher emotion and cold logic. To really stand apart from humanity and decide a course of action that would seem almost ideal.

It's been the first time in a long while where I could really feel the soul of two people, a friend and a stranger. Feel the weight of suffering, dilemma and uncertainty.

Why? Why not? Why let go of the past? I felt so sure for her that that was gonna be my advice, let go, and find something newer, fresher.

But the look, those eyes, both their eyes. It changed what I intended to say. Sometimes you just look at two people and you know there's a future ahead. Sometimes you don't.

This time I am pretty certain of it. :]

I just wish them/him/her all the best!