(no subject)
My work is the only thing that I can love in my own way. It's the only love I have that I can change freely. It's accepting of my judgment, it doesn't pressure me to care, it doesn't ever detach from me to find love anywhere else. It doesn't seek my fidelity... in fact, it doesn't ask anything of me at all. It just sits and inanimately waits for my approval while all along maintaining its own existence and purpose spotlessly.
Ah, romance.
Ah, romance.