Day 66

Will a person forsake all their values, or even their life, to defend their true love?

Unfortunately, I cannot faithfully answer that question. It's most likely because I've never experienced love in that sense. To put it more mildly, I have never been in love. Not now, not ever.

Though somehow, I feel that if the time comes, I can throw it all away, to life or to death. This feeling has always been close to my heart, just beneath that cozy exterior of mine. It never goes away, no matter what I do. Lust, infatuation, selfishness, deceit, or ruin, such are all a part of my regimen. But without that thought of eventual selflessness, I cannot survive. In a way, it is perhaps my last salvation.

Everything else I've ever talked about, my career, my friends, even my family, I know that they are an integral part of my well being. Without them, I cannot survive, and they form the basic consciousness of what I am today. On the other hand, without the hope of finding the one that I can give myself to, my life basically is without meaning.

To this day, I've never contemplated what it means to be truly in love. I don't think I need to, nor does it really matter, because I will never know until it happens. After so many sojourns into the world of female companionship, some more meaningful than others, I've never felt its existence. Perhaps I'm cold, perhaps my mind is preoccupied with other things, or maybe my partners did not feel the same way. It all sounds so childish and cheap. But it really is, I find.

A storybook carousel. The next page is always blank, waiting to be written. After a while, you find that you end up writing on the same pages over and over, except for the fact the ones you recognize to have written over have become bare again. You don't know where the ending should be, but you've lost the beginning of it all. You keep writing because you know no better, and after all this time, why give up now? The pleasure, it seems, is finding the right segway for the conclusion. But you feel your writing is getting more interesting, and you want to hold back till the last possible moment. So the story continues, even though you only remember what you wrote yesterday...

I was going to write a one word entry entitled 'fuck' today, but I decided instead to talk about this instead. This is the first, perhaps last post, that I will ever talk about this subject. I rarely think about it, and I rarely formulate any opinions on it. Because that feeling of mine has always been there, and it never changes.

Actually, I may have spoken of it before, but I do not recollect, and I'm too lazy to go check...