I knew a person once, who thought they cared.
But they didn't. And it was very sad for all parties involved.
Which got me thinking, as rational selfish beings, are we capable of genuine emotion and amour? Not to be confused with Lust and infatuation. Or are we so jaded, and disillusioned by the phoniness that we refuse to care, refuse to acknowledge it? Have we aged before time? Has the fatuuity of our predecessors made us unwisely wizened to the folly that is love?
That we are now bred to un-care and suspect?
That it might now actually be a forte not a fault to not look for love?
To look for temporary do-overs?
That we might actually be looking for it unmitigated by shame.
Xontemplative
Usher in the age of commitment-phobia.
So what'll it be?
a) A helping of - As long as you aren't in a position to hurt me - I'll pretend to care about you?
b) Or a dash of - as long as I think you fulfill certain criteria in my chargesheet for love - you can be a marginal part of my life?
Living on the edge, this reminds me of.
Are we are so unsure of getting it back that we refuse to put it out there at all.
We can't bear to risk pain. No matter what the benefits.
Is that what care has been whittled down to? Need-based affection?
We demand and expect painless living and if it doesn't deliver and then with a wave of the hand and whoosh of wind it's all gone.
Is it possible, despite all the de-sexifying talk above, that everything in your body be screaming unreasonably for something that it shouldn't be. Are you allowed to be quixotic and passionate anymore? Or are you stereotyped if you are?
How infallible is this crushing emotion?
Masochism is what it's seems like.
Unbearable pain is what it feels like.
An Addiction is what it probably is.
segue. segue. segue. Must learn how to segue. sway and segue into conversations.
Dreamless
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