What are we if not the continuation of our fathers
We all want something pure. Something indivisible. It's Plato's perfect circle; everyone can conceptualize it, but the real world will never, ever contain one. We keep looking though, for something of pure good to exalt (or something of pure evil to destroy). Even if newly fallen snow is the closest thing to God this world will ever see. Sooner or later, consciously or not, everyone realizes this and stops trying, gives up on finding a distilled, pure, elemental form of something - of anything, just one single kernel of purity - in the real world. There are no absolutes. Maybe the closest people to purity are the ones who never stop searching. They're pure themselves, in a way.
So romantic love is my perfect circle, and come hell or high water I'm going to make it work or die trying.
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Funny thing. Have you ever noticed, when navigating through a crowd, that lowering one's head is a subtle but highly effective signal that you're trying to get through? To the best of my knowledge, headbutting was never a means of establishing dominance in primal humans; why it should be instrumental in commanding someone to stand aside is quite beyond me.
This seems to be cyclical. Every once in a while, my mind flips into a philosophical mode, and I feel as if I can just see everything with incredible clarity, and life flows along with the fluidity of quicksilver. I'm incredibly at peace with myself lately. Whenever I see myself reflected in the glass I stop and blink and marvel at how little I would change about myself right now, given the choice. Yesterday morning, I did something socially incongruous and felt like a complete fool and hated myself for hours afterward over it. It was a sickly, anxious feeling, like I didn't trust myself to prevent such stupidities from recurring. And suddenly I realized that this state of shame was how I felt by default not too long ago, and what a stark contrast it was to how I feel nowadays. Some manner of inner peace, I suppose. I'd best enjoy myself whilst the circus is in town.
So romantic love is my perfect circle, and come hell or high water I'm going to make it work or die trying.
---
Funny thing. Have you ever noticed, when navigating through a crowd, that lowering one's head is a subtle but highly effective signal that you're trying to get through? To the best of my knowledge, headbutting was never a means of establishing dominance in primal humans; why it should be instrumental in commanding someone to stand aside is quite beyond me.
This seems to be cyclical. Every once in a while, my mind flips into a philosophical mode, and I feel as if I can just see everything with incredible clarity, and life flows along with the fluidity of quicksilver. I'm incredibly at peace with myself lately. Whenever I see myself reflected in the glass I stop and blink and marvel at how little I would change about myself right now, given the choice. Yesterday morning, I did something socially incongruous and felt like a complete fool and hated myself for hours afterward over it. It was a sickly, anxious feeling, like I didn't trust myself to prevent such stupidities from recurring. And suddenly I realized that this state of shame was how I felt by default not too long ago, and what a stark contrast it was to how I feel nowadays. Some manner of inner peace, I suppose. I'd best enjoy myself whilst the circus is in town.