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moon river


a fortnight ago [redacted] & i spoke of love and loneliness. we always do, and for good reason: we understand each other. she knows what it’s like to get so pointlessly, absurdly, intensely infatuated for months on end it becomes unhealthy and borders on obsession (or maybe the latter bit is just me… two times too many). she both panders to, and rejects, the gripe and thrust of that infatuation the way i have before, and presently, as a preventive measure, refuses its Entry Into Being the way i do and would now, lest either of us remotely entertain its jarring company and have it disrupt our current internal state of affairs — hallmarked by peace. she’s been through the turmoil and experienced firsthand the Clash of the Titans (Feeling and Rationality), and is, or will be, more cautious now, when entering the court.

i. loving

can you love?

—intimacy scares me, i said.

me too.

Continue reading “moon river”

maybe i waver between pouring love out in buckets and in trickles. my days of poetry & written (and thus permanently catalogued) affection are long gone; i haven’t sat down and worded an essay about why i love someone with outpouring emotion in so long i worry my ability to do so may have expired. but i still love in unfelt breezes & rifting winds, and i still get giddy with sudden gratitude & fullness in bouts. i think the intensity of love i feel for people has mellowed remarkably to a comfortable consistency — please (to self) not let any false sense of loneliness diminish this sentiment to anything less than warmth.

why do we differentiate between different types of love? I feel like unnecessary complications arise because of this categorical approach we seem to take when dissecting our emotions — the classic question: do you like him/her or like like him/her? I hate having to organise my feelings as if they’re so straightforward, as if emotions are scientific & rational. what is up with this societal pressure to clearly distinguish my attractions? why do I have to decide if what I’m feeling is romantic attraction or intensely platonic fondness if I can’t actually properly tell? why are there so many different types of love? can’t I just love you?

i can’t do love

June 8, 2015

sometimes i think about you and put a pedestal underneath your feet and attach mysteries to your most probably straightforward life and perspective of life; you become ethereal and almost divine, in a sense, as i view you as a swan in the shadows, in intriguing beauty and beautiful intrigue. it is not hard to imagine you soft, nor is it dark to find you close to light—that is how i find you compelling, poetic, delicate, as a touch-me-knot, knots the path of your mind. (and i will forget-you-not.) but then i look up and realise that when we tilt our heads up to face the days and nights, we are both looking at the same sky, and all of a sudden you become small, and personal, and human. you become gibbously intact and cross-limbed, faulted by default. and you become even more enthralling.

so I’m reading through my old blog and I stumble across post after post about relationships that never manifested into anything more than yearnings.

August 30, 2014

will always be fond of you

I’ve never had a crush on anyone but I’ve been infatuated by a number, and allow me to dissect (for my own sake) what I mean when I label the attraction as such: Continue reading “i can’t do love”

yeah i suppose we all struggle with loneliness, especially when so many of those close to us, around us, have a significant individual in their life. maybe most of the time we’re okay, glad even, to not be attached. but there’s gotta be a reason we’ve been inclined towards monogamous relationships for so long, so much so that it’s a societal norm, even (which isn’t to discredit the existence of polyamory, but to state an observation on neutral terms). i doubt there aren’t ever nights we yearn for exclusive companionship that friendships, no matter how strong and solid, just can’t seem to compensate for, because if you crave an apple oranges aren’t going to satisfy you, even if oranges are equally important and incredible and you wouldn’t be able to live without them. the soppiness of what i’m about to say unsettles me but the truth of the matter is that we want (romantic) love, no matter the excuses we give ourselves.

Well, I know when you’re around ’cause I know the sound, I know the sound of your heart.

(I do.)

I think I fall in love with strangers too easily, and I don’t mean that loosely, but as a decision, this surge of desire to watch them grow and maybe even aid them in the process, birthed solely out of the energy they give and I capture. It’s frustrating and unhealthy, sometimes. I try not to idealise them too much, and I also try to not be contrarily critical as a coping mechanism, but neutral grounds are a difficult place to reach.