Darling City

by Christos Polydorou

​I used to stress a lot more before I moved to the city of cold emotionless zombies, unphazed by any emergency or catastrophe. I observed this calamity in Londoners even in lieu of an impending disaster and it struck my heart with a particular type of envy that filled me ever since I was a little boy, an envy that pushed me to be competitive, imitative, and obsessive. For it is not fitting not for that matter real to stare at a situation and gasp #OMG neither for that matter to transcend it bec it is quote not worthy of our time unquote.
Darlings every night we fall asleep we forget, and this forgetting is necessary to keep living, sure. But we forget what we had done too. We’ve been met with obstacles. We gasped loudly. We called friends. We Skyped our mothers. We posted queries on Facebook. We wrote deeply clear and concise entries in our journal, but until we acted, it was all somewhat pointless premeditation, there was nothing to prepare us for the body we’d have to abandon to become the body we were meant to become. A cold emotionless zombie slowdancing with other cold emotionless zombies. Call it true love, my love.

Now please leave me to my urban loneliness and despair of solitude and disquiet. And please, don’t touch me.

Here is a guide. It tells you exactly how not to touch me.

Hold me?

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