One King - One Story

All my life I’ve cared more about people than they have cared about me. Many will disagree because they've noted my aloofness and logical approach to life – but they are wrong. I’m aloof outwardly because I’m constantly worried about others internally. I’m logical because I (perhaps mistakenly) think that it’s the best thing (for them). My Girls, Girls, Girls blog is filled with tons of instances where I loved people for who they were and who they could be but they either became random or became obsessed. Random because they weren't all there mentally and obsessed because they loved an idea. I've said this to a few people in the past – all have disagreed – but I seriously believe that every girl who’s been obsessed with me feel in love with an idea and feeling, not me. They loved how I made them feel, they fell for the idea that they could feel that forever – if only they could keep me. Not only keep me – own me. But they were wrong. None of them ever loved me

There’s a girl that I met five years ago – I blogged about her a few times in the past. She was fun, quirky, smart and sexy – I always hoped for more with her. I tried many times to take things to the next level – but she was always avoidant. She always seemed to be happy as someone in my bed but never someone in my heart. Two years ago when I decided to end my corporate life and start on this journey I decided to try one last time. One last ditch effort to try for something serious with her. She refused. Her objection was that she didn’t know anything about my background and that was important for her. She said that she’d complained about it to friends of mine and they’d echoed the same sentiments. I just don’t talk about my family, culture or history. All I talked about was myself. I was shocked but I kinda understood. Especially at that point, I didn’t talk so much about family and those things – I spoke about me. My kingdom, my hopes, my dreams…fears, heartbreaks.