The Irony Of Life: All About Marvis And Me

Life is fraught with ironies, and at one point or another every person has to deal with a double-edged situation, which like a sword can impale as much as it can tickle. That’s irony: discovering that whether we are aware of it or not, the old joke that God has a dark sense of humour is no joke at all… Or in my case, discovering that the same mutual interest that draws people together and moulds the plinth for a friendship can just as well tear them apart and deliver the headstone to that friendship. Irony.
You see Marvis and I on the surface have very little in common, but beneath the ripples are the undercurrents that intensify with depth, and in that blue-haze is the denominator we both identify with: passion. Passion is what shapes us –Marvis and me –our outlook on life and its pleasures; the individual relationship we have with our seperate families; the parental pride with which we speak about our siblings; the fierceness with which we protect our friends, and the directness with which we attack our foes.
Yes, maybe Marvis and I see things differently — I’m the one with the uncanny ability to see the whole picture from the start and be two steps ahead, while he gives a twist to the meaning of the phrase singularity of purpose and is so single-minded his thought-patterns are all but one-dimensional –but we both apply ourselves to just about anything with such fiery quality and intensity. Passionate in a way only fire-signs can be we plunge headfirst into friendship, war, and love…
Our passion for the finer things drew us close –on my part the idea that there is nothing I can’t achieve, and on his part the idea that there is nothing he doesn’t deserve –as well as mutual friends, and enemies that represented the same things, and in the end what had torn us apart was another connection: our mutual love for someone… Irony.
In a classic romance novel I guess my place would be that of the villain. I was the one who stepped in-between two people who shared what in my opinion was a self-destructive indulgence they mistook for love –or more correctly who didn’t do enough to keep from being pulled into a love triangle, committing the grave sin of SILENCE that too often is no different from a nod –but the truth is things aren’t so clear-cut in reality, and just as in war, there’s no clear distinction between villain and victim in matters of the heart.
It had all been innocent enough in the beginning, and like one of my favourite cliché’s the road to my hell had been paved with good intentions. I had known what I was doing, or at least that was what I had thought. I trusted myself not to let things get out of control, being someone who can be described as uptight on a good day, and a manipulative, controlling son-of-a-bitch when tempers get high. I knew when and where to draw the line. I knew right and I knew wrong, but somehow I failed to notice when wrong started to feel right, and with characteristic sure-footed stride I stopped to test the depths a little too late.
One so good he makes others look bad grooms a brood of silent detractors around him (pardon my modesty), and expectedly the moment there was mud to throw, the green snakes slithered through the lush grasses into plain sight, and it was christening all over again. I was JUDAS, the TWO-FACED PRETENDER, amongst other things, and I was selfish, and deceitful, and spiteful, and described by several other adjectives many of the HE’S-NOT-SO-PERFECT-AFTER-ALL campaign team-mates hadn’t expected they would use in their lifetime, much less think themselves able to pronounce. And under the natal influence of Mars, I had reacted in the only way I know how: taking on the offensive. I had made threats I intended to see through, and had disseminated my own brand of venom, and somewhere between here and there the fact that I was hurting was completely lost. There were two large horns on my head only I couldn’t see, and no one else could see my dilemma: I was in this horrible situation where I had to choose between two people I deeply care about, both of whom personified a war between my heart and my head. And that’s the thing about keeping your heart too close to your chest and holding up a smokescreen for the rest of the world to see, when you need to be vulnerable and curl into a ball you just know it that that’s a role no one would ever identify with you.
Marvis and I were on opposite ends, and we both had a common focal point, not as a tag-team, but as competitors, and at first I thought to step away from my end and switch sides, and I would have but for whispers by shadows in this tug-of-war: a neutralist that wasn’t as neutral as he felt obligated to be, and the liar who had set the ball rolling, trying valiantly to seperate a lot of confused emotions with more lies, and half-truths.
What a lot of spectators of my personal life drama hadn’t understood was the fact that if it ever seemed like I was goody-two-shoes, it was because I was in fact goody-two-shoes, and any change in whatever is perceived as my character at any given time is as a result of a more fundamental reshape by my experiences. I’m flexible like that, and I like to think of myself as a work in progress, and at that point in time, nitpicking and consciously finding bones to pick with Marvis, warring with myself over something –someone — I was drawn to with an intensity that scared me, I began to find justification from another war, another time when I had been Marvis and someone else had been me. You see all my life I had always put others before me: family (consisting of my father, mother and three siblings –make no mistake) and friends. Family is a constant I can always count on, but friends I had been betrayed by more times than I could count. Had “friendship” kept me from getting burned, and hurt? No. So then what reason had I to stifle myself in honour of “friendship”, when I was almost certain that if the situation was reversed and I was accorded such deference it would be because I throw a killer punch and backhand fast as a whip-lash. Moreover, I hadn’t gone looking for trouble, trouble had come looking for me.
I guess it was this trail of logic that did it for me, but when I did “let go” –I didn’t even know what that meant at the time –I went all the way out, over the edge and into the bayou. I allowed myself be taken in, and I gave all that I knew to give. There was passion and there was pain, and I immersed myself in both, thrilled by this new person I had become. I was living for ME, and I liked that… I LIKE that.
I liked the danger of exploring repressed needs, and having someone I could open up to; someone I could be vulnerable with, and with whom I could discover layers of my personality I didn’t know existed.
It wasn’t like I had changed a lifetime of habits and personal orientation all at once, but it had been one very big leap that pushed me to rediscover myself, test my boundaries, taste the dark half that was imprisoned at Cathecism, and question who I am, who I want to be, and how far out I was willing to go to find common-ground between the two. I discovered how much voltage could be packed in just one kiss, and how to be uninhibited and live in the moment. I learnt to pack light, and for that I feel neither regret nor remorse.
Bigoted as this may sound, I don’t even have any apologies for anyone who has reason to feel hurt by my actions. It was a bizarre, awkward ménage à trois and in all the heat a lot of things were said, egos bruised.
All is fair in love and war, and driven by self-preservation Marvis, Me, and the last edge to our little love-triangle had done what we thought we must to stay ahead, so I guess we could all call it even, now that we have taken the first baby steps to healing the rift…
And about that… Could the bad blood between Marvis and I ever become water under the bridge…? I guess so.
Do I want our “friendship” back where it once used to be…? The truth is I really don’t know. I hadn’t given it much thought in a while, if ever, and somehow I feel that so much time has passed that I don’t care anymore, and would remain largely unaffected whatever happens, but I’m prepared to make the trip halfway, and apparently so is Marvis. The catch, however, is that though much has happened in my life, and I have progressed in several ways since when Marvis and I had fallen out, the quality of the feelings I have for the middleman in our little picture torn all the way through the middle, hasn’t waned much with age.
Enters the white elephant: Can Marvis and I rediscover a friendship of mutual-interests if we still aren’t over a MUTUAL-INTEREST?
Irony…

4 Comments

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  1. Am realy speachless but only time and d amount of effort put into it wil tel

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  2. And I left a reply

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  3. Nice stroy Ÿ̲̣̣̣̥ø̲̣̣̥u̶̲̥̅̊ wudnt want to end”marvis and I”is a classic anyone wud pick up anywhere@Dozie gud job!

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  4. Hmmmmmm…….Finally I took a breath,time will tell, nice piece

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