I just want to know.

God knows I understand the desire to kiss someone, just to connect on that level even if it is only for a single moment and there's everything to lose and nothing but confusion and pain to gain - in the next. But for that instant, you're freefalling, lost in the sensation of emotions you long to share but have no one to do so with. So physical experience suffices. Life imitates art and in being able to enact the ethereal within, it almost becomes immaterial whom you do what with; the feeling is so good, finally releasing those otherwise wonderful emotions that have been eating away at your soul like demon parasites feeding on your life energy so that you yourself become art, part of the background... how do these emotions fester to such suffering? When does not being able to love become a consumption?

Loving someone hurts. Being in love is near unbearable. Yet not being able to share love seems to grab and twist at your real and figurative innards stronger and tighter and with more relentless fury than anything else could possibly hope to match. How ironic that millions of years of evolution and adaptation can be brought to its knees by a simple hormonal imbalance manifested within and induced by the -mind-, the apex of everything that has happened since the beginning of time and space. Maybe my brain is my tragic flaw.

Can't live with it,...

I lead a strange and morbidly beautiful dichotomy.