05-01-2006
“I yearn for you tragically”
Ok. So may it’s not tragic in the strictly classical dramatic sense. And maybe “yearn” is a little over-the-top. Still if someone asked me to describe what “tragic yearning” felt like, I don’t think I could do any better than to depict my current emotional state. Seriously, why do I do this to myself?
I’m sure many people believe I do it for attention or maybe out of some mashocistic attempt at justification. I don’t. I hate it . I want it to stop. It won’t. I speak from experience, many years of self-induced-hell type experience. And no, I’m not interested in discussing if what I feel is really “love,” as in love had some sort of magical, objective defination. It doesn’t. And if it did, I don’t care. This is bad enough. If it gets worst than this, just fucking shoot me. And yet, it does. This is actually the “easy” part, whilst I can relish in the newiness of it all. What comes next, it’s the interia, the holding on to an impossible idea, solely because you’ve held onto it for some long that you might as well keep holding on.
Why am I just toally incapable of normal social relations? There’s a lot of answers to that question. None of them are particularly pleasant. None of them provide a solution. Not only do I hate the way I feel, but I hate whining about it like some fucking high school emo kid whose whole life is wholly and completely defiend by his fucking prom date. Though, I suppose I AM that kid, in a twisted sort of way. I suppose there are worst addiction than faux tragic yearning, but most of them are easier to statisfy. Where is the tragic yearning patch? Where is the cupidal methadone?
Ok. so maybe I don’t “yearn for you tragically,” but “I experience toward you an emotion somewhat less than yearning in a totally non-tragic fashion” is in no way as cool. Therefore, at the very least let me “yearn tragically,” really it’s the least you can do.
-CI
