I almost jumped out from my chair when you talked to me on msn the day before. It was just.. out of the blue.

I wonder why - because we never did keep in touch at all, after our world crashed and burned and everything else that went along. But just in case your mind wonders, my life is great - without you.

So during these few months, you got attached - you thought you emerged the winner after the war by using someone else as a substitution to erase me in you.Well that works fine, but let me judge you on that upon a 100 marks.

Innovativeness - 10

Rationalism - 0

Stupidity - 90


I'll stop here as much as our road goes.

I also realise that above all, love is selfish. Love, defined by many words, can be said to be about ownership. It is only when you feel like you completely own someone, as terrible as this sounds, then do you feel secure in loving that someone completely, giving up yourself to that one person. Then it seems unjustified to categorize mindlessly, her departure as a result for selfish needs, but as always, it is too late for regrets.






Love

is often selfish and unkind, we find ourselves victims of the grand conspiracy, wrecked by jealousy and envy.


is often too delightful at first touch, we find ourselves naively succumbing to it, only to find out at the very end that the greatest love of all is the love we have for ourselves, and nothing more.


is often something that people mistake for lust, kindness, grace, or any of those above: we find that too many times we say 'we love', and don't feel our hearts responding.


is often too shortlived, we find ourselves yearn for more, hunger for it, and treasure every memory.


is often too beautiful to be true, we find ourselves to be jaded, disillusioned, and 'i-hate-the-world' at the very end of things.


is crazily anticing, we find ourselves falling in love at first sight, falling for the wrong people, only to have our hearts broken after the whirlwind ride.


but because love is all of those things, and things undiscovered, we find it in ourselves the capacity to love, because we will never know the profund absurdity and beauty of some things until we step into it.


I've decided impulsively, over cups of coffee as I mulled over the past few months, that I will fall in love with a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. But I also decide, quite certainly, that I probably would have to wait for someone like this, and during which I should consume an inordinate amount of caffeine and dedicate my nights to wearing my heart on my sleeves just like this.