I want to call him. Him = Remy. I wonder if he has the same urge as I do. Is it possible that he feels as I do or am I just deluding myself again? Did he really care for me? I'm fed up. I'm tired of the what if's. I'm tired of the guessing, of the constant analyzing of words, gestures and assumptions. I just want to be sane again. Was I every truly sane to begin with?
I find that I latch on to those who are kind to me, but that isn't a bad thing is it? Why would one want to be surround by negativity if just to wallow in it and remain as low as possible? All it takes is one kind word to turn your head, to make you notice someone. Well, in my case that seems to be true. Some women who get constant attention from the male species tune it out after awhile, I imagine. How do you determine truth and fallacy? Is this where you're supposed to take a chance and let fate take its course?
Why? Why take the risk? Maybe the possibility of a good outcome is good enough, but after the constant disappointments, pain and hurt, do you just pick yourself up and do it again hoping that this time will be the big payoff? Would you turn into some automated person going through the motions because you've been told that there is someone out there just for you? All you need to do is put yourself out there and take chances.
What is love? Is it the reason we live? Why do we live our lives going through soo many trials and tribulations? It seems that people go through life wanting to achieve something. Unsure of what that something is until it's too late. Usually in the end, that something turns out to be happiness. Is it in the form of romantic love? I don't know.
Poets, writers, horny teenagers, and all of mankind seek out this type of happiness. We are driven by this need to be fulfilled, to be loved. Or is it the basic physical thing called lust dragging our feet onward to the next person. Victim? Hurt ensues most of the time after these type of encounters, or do they? Am I just being too cynical because I haven't experienced this type of love?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
hamlet, act 3, scene 1
9:51 p.m. - February 19, 2004
Recent entries:
solitude - March 31, 2014
Je suis triste... - June 28, 2013
I thought I found what I always wanted - June 25, 2013
oh you delicate heart... - June 18, 2013
all the small things... - May 21, 2013
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