(no subject)
I am a walker in a land of settlers. Where many settle, fertilizing the land with tears and wasted efforts, eventually giving in with a fatalistic shrug to the fact that happiness is a comfort instead of a truth and necessity, I continue on looking for the genuine article.
Every day I find myself feeling more dejected. Less hopeful. More dirty in my quest for something that people resent me for seeking. After all, I'm no pure deserving creature. I'm a simple and less than extraordinary one. Average.
Is it so wrong? Wanting what I feel I deserve? Perhaps. Maybe I ask for too much. But then, I hardly considering the clipped wings of others to be my fault. I've been caught in a few fox traps myself. But I'd sooner gnaw my leg off than give in to a destiny that others would force upon me.
Maybe, it was a poor choice to be both a cynic and a romantic. I'm a heart broken idealist. Bound by fate to break of my own contradictions.
Being bisexual, I've always found it to be a beautiful thing. When based on love first and sexuality second. To look into the face of a being and first see something pure. Not euphoric, because euphoria tends to be deceiving. But blessed understanding. A mutual realization of two people that there's something more than friendship, more than sex, and more than infatuation. It's simply rare these days.
Too rare indeed. Today bisexuality is about sex. Just the sex. I'll have you know, immediately, that sex doesn't interest me. I've had three sexual encounters. None that led to the loss of my virginity in whole, but enough for me to really understand. And it doesn't interest me if it's not with someone important.
Physical sensation is easy to provide. But to have that combined with a sense of happiness, realising that that which you've valued for so long is being given to someone that values it just as much, well that's different.
I'm having difficulty finding that. It seems that people are only interested in my body. Because of people like this, it seems that people assume that's what I'm interested in as well. This pressumption, really, breaks my heart. Mainly because it seems to come from those I've trusted and opened up to. It betrays my trust in ways they can't possibly understand.
All I asked for was sanctuary. Just a bit of understanding. And instead I get deception. If I can't trust in the famial love, the concept of friendship, something that's supposed to be simple, and pure in its simplicity, how can I be expected to find something so ellusive as love?
It's enough to make me want to give up. Just give in. Do as my family wishes. Find a guy. Marry him. Make him happy. Keep the family reputation intact. It hurts so bad. That humanity on a whole has just broken my heart. I waited. And I could have waited longer. So much longer. With an understanding that anything in this damned world was genuine. But lately I'm finding that so hard to believe.
Every day I find myself feeling more dejected. Less hopeful. More dirty in my quest for something that people resent me for seeking. After all, I'm no pure deserving creature. I'm a simple and less than extraordinary one. Average.
Is it so wrong? Wanting what I feel I deserve? Perhaps. Maybe I ask for too much. But then, I hardly considering the clipped wings of others to be my fault. I've been caught in a few fox traps myself. But I'd sooner gnaw my leg off than give in to a destiny that others would force upon me.
Maybe, it was a poor choice to be both a cynic and a romantic. I'm a heart broken idealist. Bound by fate to break of my own contradictions.
Being bisexual, I've always found it to be a beautiful thing. When based on love first and sexuality second. To look into the face of a being and first see something pure. Not euphoric, because euphoria tends to be deceiving. But blessed understanding. A mutual realization of two people that there's something more than friendship, more than sex, and more than infatuation. It's simply rare these days.
Too rare indeed. Today bisexuality is about sex. Just the sex. I'll have you know, immediately, that sex doesn't interest me. I've had three sexual encounters. None that led to the loss of my virginity in whole, but enough for me to really understand. And it doesn't interest me if it's not with someone important.
Physical sensation is easy to provide. But to have that combined with a sense of happiness, realising that that which you've valued for so long is being given to someone that values it just as much, well that's different.
I'm having difficulty finding that. It seems that people are only interested in my body. Because of people like this, it seems that people assume that's what I'm interested in as well. This pressumption, really, breaks my heart. Mainly because it seems to come from those I've trusted and opened up to. It betrays my trust in ways they can't possibly understand.
All I asked for was sanctuary. Just a bit of understanding. And instead I get deception. If I can't trust in the famial love, the concept of friendship, something that's supposed to be simple, and pure in its simplicity, how can I be expected to find something so ellusive as love?
It's enough to make me want to give up. Just give in. Do as my family wishes. Find a guy. Marry him. Make him happy. Keep the family reputation intact. It hurts so bad. That humanity on a whole has just broken my heart. I waited. And I could have waited longer. So much longer. With an understanding that anything in this damned world was genuine. But lately I'm finding that so hard to believe.