Thursday, February 24, 2011

Stranger than fiction

Sometimes positivity, optimism and whatever else you call it fails. By failure we can mean anything: loss of life, true grief, or even a bad mark on a final. Sometimes life falls apart like a house of cards; you can keep on trying but someone else is shaking the table. Life is not a game to be played or a metaphor of anything remarkable. You can't go through life thinking things happen for reasons, because sometimes they don't. Sometimes things happen because you're an idiot and you should have done otherwise. But you didn't, and now you're sitting here, thinking how hindsight could have saved the day. But it's hindsight, and it's called that for a reason. Keep looking through hindsight and you'll have your head so far up your ass ostriches will be looking back at you. Life can be stupid, it can be irrational. It's a day to day struggle between you and what you face. It's your choice to get up, and try again. It's your choice to take it as it comes, or go and get it. Beyond all the frustration and faithlessness, there's love.

Love is the intolerable reality of another being. It's accepting that you are who you've let yourself become, or accepting that you are not who you yet want to be and actively setting to change that. Loving yourself comes before loving another. Looking in the mirror you can't get all philosophical and think it's you looking back. It's not you: it's an image of what you see of yourself. That image, can literally change by the day. When you lose or gain weight, that image changes. That image could disappear, and then what would you be? Other than blind, you'll be lacking yourself. So don't put that much attention or self-worth in to the mirror. Put it into what you want yourself to be: smart, independent, financially stable, sexually promiscuous. I don't care. The reason why I don't care is because it's you and not me. I'm what I want to be, except for the 30K+ I am in debt doing so. I'll get there when I get there.

Love for another is what comes when you've gotten over yourself. You're ready to let someone in, let them judge and apprehend that freedom all their own. You can let them mock you, recreate you, mould you and change you but you'll always have a different interpretation of yourself than what they have. You've got to accept this early on. Your friends may not like every aspect of your personality. They tolerate it. You don't have this luxury. If you can't tolerate a part of yourself, you're doomed to a lifetime of unhappiness. Change, and do it for the better. Change can come with acceptance, or ignorance, or actual physical change. Get breast implants. Lose weight. Do what you have to do, or regret it forever.

Love is stupid. It doesn't care for intelligence, it doesn't know how to read, write or play a song. It can't dance, nor does it want to. Love is an independent reality apart from all these things. Love is the state of existence where all is one and everything no longer matters.
People say "I'd die for you". They got it wrong. What good is dying for someone? About the same good as giving away your entire independence and strength to the will of another. Useless pieces of metal. Tools. You're only as good as your last word, and I've had a lot of them. Fight. Make love. Repeat.

Jump off a cliff, and tell me what made you do it. You won't care, because you'll be too busy telling me about the unbelievable feeling of freedom you experienced after you jumped. Love is that feeling, right before your feet leave ground: when you know you're going to do it, and it's too late to react. It's the feeling when you trip and you want to catch yourself, but only end up smashing awkwardly into the floor, laughing. We all hit ground eventually, it's what makes us leap that concerns me.

Call it a leap of faith. Call it leapfrog. I don't care. I care that I'm in control of my jump: a perfect leap of grace. Pirouettes, over and over and over. I can't lose control. Such is the demise of the type-A. We won't let go. We won't give up. We will succeed. Backspace backspace backspace. We will always succeed. But never at love, no...

Love is a failure.

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