I was holding the piece of paper, engulfed by mixed feelings. On one hand I enjoyed my excitement. On the other, my doubtful heart just knew that once again I’d fall prey to that evil bitch, whom I had despised since my late teens. I just had totally lost all faith in her and she had no right coming back into my life. She had been living in condemnation, since I called my band’s album “Burned From Hope”.
Hope had no permission to crawl back into my heart, but I guess as the ever-uninvited guest, there she was, all glamorous and polished, with her deceitful huge, wet eyes, staring me inside and hypnotizing me that “everything’s gonna be alright”. My brain, as an ex-lover of hers, knew that it wouldn’t work out, but my heart, soft as it is, sucked her in like an addict, having longed for his drag of false pleasure for eternity.
And who believes fortune cookies anyway? Why the hell of all people, I should be the one to unroll the paper, saying: “Your fondest dream will come true by the end of the year”.
Then and there I told myself not to believe this bullshit, but the bitch curled right into my gut and made me keep the little piece of paper, so I could pull it out of my wallet day after day, after day and drift away on Hope’s little boat, meandering in my fantasies that life was fair and a better future lurked for me behind the corner.
Bull Shit!
After planning out and carefully placing my pawns in strategic positions on the chessboard of life, I managed to wiggle myself out of working on New Year’s Eve. The new 2010 was upon us and I still was a host to that little bitch, holding her flag of deceit in my pocket, but nothing had happened.
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