August 30, 2004

08:11:04

(...Love is a siren...calling you in from the vehement seas...or crying a warning of the imminent Natural Disaster...)

Okay, America. Am I doing this? I think I'm doing this. Think I should stop thinking. Here goes...

Our subject is Fear of Love.

(manufactured product of the average male sociopath)

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS ALL A LIE

I know Nothing of Love. 'Cept I do. Cuz there are degrees of love as there are fot Hatred.

They variate and fluctuate depending on the person; family and friends affiliated, victims, villians, and enemies. In this effect it's very akin to Happiness- a constant variable expressed in a myriad of strange, beautiful, and even violent fashions. And it terrifies me. Yet being human and prone to loneliness (or extreme ennui), I am not only compelled by it, but literally would not have survived until now.

Just as my convictions, dilligence, and smug self-righteousness have kept me passionate, "honest", and self-sufficient, none of it could be were it not for a foundation of others' love and my utter contempt and resentment of it all. It's a fucking complex. And I've picked it, pryed it, and straight up dismantled it many tymes to no avail.

Despite me, Love will persevere.

So like any passive aggresivist, I give in... and quietly bitch about it later.

How it interferes with my sleep. Then when I'm awake I can't think as clearly. And always ever-so-closely watching my emotional barometer for when it exceeds the "dependancy" limit. Cuz that's when I know I'm fucked. When Want becomes Need. I learned about it once in Rehab. How when suppliers are scarce some become destitute and subject themselves to things that otherwise, under any other circumstances, they would never find themselves capable of.

Still, in the Absence

We are not Subhumanz

(...we're here to serve you...)

Survivalists and Hedonists

Though not quite Ourselves

Now, are we?

Proles maybe?

Preserving a dead dialect.

Who knows?

Malformation is certain

and Maladjustments made

Either way

Like Adaptation In Reverse.

Morale disspiates, standards realign, habits resurface or turn latent, and not matter what you fucking do No One is, or ever will be again, the same person once they have Loved. And Lost.

08:15:04

(...Singing in the rain couldn't cut it...And I sure as hell wouldn't call it grace...But perhaps it was the precision... that allowed me to save face... the right incision in just the right place...)

Now then- Mutual Bipolarity

I've mer a few bipolar people. Most of them are outwardly very functional, polite, intriguing people. But if you catch them at the right moment it's almost painful to see just how "split" these poeple are. You can visibly, without microscope or textbook, see mitosis taking place, resulting from an on-going tension and confliction that builds up like the static of bad communication between halves. And my heart goes out to them. Because they will ALWAYS be the same person.

(...see Self Delegation...Survival 101...Symbiosis failure...)

Unless, of course, they aren't.

You know, the Other Kind of bipolar person, whose halves often share mannerisms, expressions, tastes and discomforts. Who compensate one anothers' weaknesses and occasionally reinforce the strengths. They're pleasant and humorous at paries, then withdrawn and angry when left alone. But I'm not alking about a singular organism here. I'm talking about TWO distinctly different but despairingly Incomplete people.

So let it be known that if any one I am EVER dating happens to even half-heartedly (pun intended) mutter the self-depracating words "You Complete Me", I will slap your lil' spritually dwarved ass to the street corner where you belong without a second of regret. For wasting my tyme. For giving Love a choke-hold rather than embracing it, quantifying it. For squandering potential integration.

Cuz as you may have geussed I have no tolerance for those who just NEED to be with someone- ANYONE -in order to synthesize, recreate, or perpetuate some Idea of Love that if it ever existied was only once and long since past without having the common fucking courtesy of getting to know AND Love themselves first. So with their brilliant lil' Idea they arrogantly set out searching for the most Ideal Person, knowingky setting themselves up for dissapointment when Adaptation doesn't adhere to them. And they still insist on crying in the corners, wailing whys, and lamenting their own ineptitude.

For what? fucking Nothing.

For not paying attention in 'Rithmetic when Teach said...

THE SUM OF TWO WHOLES IS GREATER THAN THAT OF TWO HALVES.

Yeah I have no patience for them at all.

These Incompletes, parasites, and wenches with a hankering for persecution. Succubi and Incubi alike.

To me, they serve NO practical purpose for spirituality, evolution, or economy and in fact more than likely hold it back as much as your every day bigot via repeating History (...see Fear of Happiness...).

So I propose a mass execution for all those who impose the past upon Love, until they learn for their own survival to come out of love enhanced and enlightened rather than hindered and frightened. To Love as they hate, indiscriminately. And mostly let Love be... the multivaried multifaceted extraordainary force of procreation, communication, etc etc etc etc different EVERY tyme that it's suppoesed to be.

At least I don't want every relationship turning out like some bad rebroadcast of an irritating gay sitcom. My own little production of recent events is extravagant enough as it is without me having to get bored and having to break up some monotony. Differences are things to be celebrated and make life and Love so ecclectic. Let's try to revel a little, shall we?

(...we're not through here...)