And we're not sexed up... that's what makes the difference today. I hope you blow away...
Love dies. And it rots in your gut, in your soul, in your heart and in your mind until you're not sure it ever existed in the first place.
Ever been asked how many times you've been in love? I have. And I honestly can't tell you.
If I'm being liberal, I'd say I've been in love 4 times.
But all-consuming, thorough, inside-out love, like you'd die for that person? Twice.
And I've questioned myself, time and time again, as to whether the latter kind of love is a result of drama or emotion. Is it the highs and lows to feel that way, or the intensity of your feelings? Without the drama, would it be standard, settled love?
The real fucker of love is that in hindsight you can doubt that you were actually in love, although at the time it felt like the most real thing you'd ever experienced.
And the absolute and utter cunt of it all is that love results in hate.
And after the hate has died, all you have left is memories.
And when the memories die, you have nothing left at all.
posted by A Girl Like Me | 9:41 pm
I feel I understand just what you mean.
It's always a shame to have nothing to show for such a long period of deep involvement with someone.
But secretly, you do take away the experiences and wisdoms - they're just fused so tightly to your brain that you can't distunguish them anymore.
I feel like that, in any case. My brain feels like a massive rotting whale carcass with thousands upon thousands of parasitic limpets fused to its papery skin, all pumping the cloying muck of disillusion into its miserable death and keeping it animated through sheer force of evil.