To err
I'm glad I know now that relationships go through phases. A former me may have quietly lamented the loss of a lover who wanted to see me every day, who would tell me he missed me after one night of chance absence. A younger me may have noticed the new lack of excitement, or wondered at our new speedy, perfunctory goodnights that have replaced the overzealous embraces and declarations of joy and asked: what happened? But now I know better. Things are changing, everywhere, constantly. Relationships are not meant to be static. Static means no one is growing individually. Static means a bond is not being formed or strengthened. Static means insanity and imminent doom.
...Or does it? I can't help wonder what the harm would be in remaining in a such state of excitement and rapture. And I am not refering to that infamous initial stage where everyone is giddy-- I mean the later, more developed stage complete with passionate love, emotional intimacy, and excitement. What would be so bad about the perpetuation of that stage? I imagine it might get tiring.
Then again, maybe it's a case where what we think we want has to dissolve to give way to something better. Maybe a deeper bond--maybe a future--is somehow not possible in this hypothetical situation. Maybe it's like the butterflies, seemingly necessary, seemingly ideal. I was much better off without the butterflies.
Either way, it's just a passing thought. I am content, I am happy. I understand.
Which brings me to my next thought. Scanning my friends page, I am struck with an overwhelming impression of impermeable sorrow. Why is everyone so depressed? Constantly? Am I some sort of aberration? I feel almost alienated. I cannot relate to you, and I apologize. My days of depression are long since over. And although I possess a sense of empathy, you still come across as another species. I feel almost guilty for that. I feel guilty because I understand, but still I'm like, it's just life. We don't need people to be happy. We don't need things. Life goes on, complete with more disappointing people. It's really not that bad.
I am an aberration. That's all.
...Or does it? I can't help wonder what the harm would be in remaining in a such state of excitement and rapture. And I am not refering to that infamous initial stage where everyone is giddy-- I mean the later, more developed stage complete with passionate love, emotional intimacy, and excitement. What would be so bad about the perpetuation of that stage? I imagine it might get tiring.
Then again, maybe it's a case where what we think we want has to dissolve to give way to something better. Maybe a deeper bond--maybe a future--is somehow not possible in this hypothetical situation. Maybe it's like the butterflies, seemingly necessary, seemingly ideal. I was much better off without the butterflies.
Either way, it's just a passing thought. I am content, I am happy. I understand.
Which brings me to my next thought. Scanning my friends page, I am struck with an overwhelming impression of impermeable sorrow. Why is everyone so depressed? Constantly? Am I some sort of aberration? I feel almost alienated. I cannot relate to you, and I apologize. My days of depression are long since over. And although I possess a sense of empathy, you still come across as another species. I feel almost guilty for that. I feel guilty because I understand, but still I'm like, it's just life. We don't need people to be happy. We don't need things. Life goes on, complete with more disappointing people. It's really not that bad.
I am an aberration. That's all.