The world forgetting by the world forgot.

"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot the world forgetting by the world forgot, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind each prayer accepted each wish resigned."- A. Pope We will forget more than we will remember. We will have impressions more than recollections. It is more important to have a pure heart than a spotless mind, for then at least we get to make up our own minds. So how happy is the blameless Vestal's lot? As happy as you are to be blameless, empty, meaningless, blank, without the weight of choice or consequence. The liberty of the lack of responsibility is naturally also the restraint of "each wish resign'd". If we want only what we're given - is that happiness?

Ebbing and Flowing.

Heart: And you left me standing in the middle of the street and you you drove away. I actually stood there and watched your car drift further and further away. For a moment I thought you were going to turn around, for a second I thought you were going to stop the car and get out and I even pictured it in my mind. I pictured me walking towards you and us stoping somewhere in the middle. But you kept driving and I stayed standing there. Then I closed my eyes and I waited for the infamous shoulder tap and the radio anouncer voice but it didn't come. What came was the voice in my head telling me the dreaded words that are sewn inside my soul forever. Mind: Everyone leaves and in the end you're alone.

There are no "Happy Endings"

Endings usually suck. What the hell is ever after anyway? Perhaps I want the fairytale because deep down inside I know it doesn't exist. If it can't happen because its not real then it won't hurt me. I am in love with a fictional character. In my mind he is perfect. In my mind everything is always perfect. Out of my mind, Me.

Suffering the unforeseeable

Addiction: The hallmark of every infatuation based love story. You bestowed upon me a heady, hallucinogenic dose of something I never thought I wanted-an emotional bump, a thunderous love and rolling excitement. And now I am craving that intensity, with a hungry obsession of a junkie. When (you) the drug are withheld, I get sick and crazy, (not to mention resentful) Please don't leave me skinny and shaking in a corner. Addicted, Me.

Semi-Autonomous Woman.

I wish I was able to understand my version of this reality. Everyday I am deeper in the rabbit hole I fall and although it is a graceful fall it is still a fall nonetheless. Am I my heart? Because if I am and at this moment my heart falls in love and it fails and it dies. What is dead then? My heart or my love? What is it How can I understand my version of this reality? Is this reality? What is this? What is it? My emotions are the slaves of my thoughts and I am the slave of my emotions. And I am scared- If I love you, I will carry for you all your pain, I will assume for you all your aspirations to succeed (in every definition of the word). I will protect you from your own insecurities. I will protect you and all the amazing qualities some of which you may have not yet even cultivated in yourself. I will give you the sky and the stars, and if they are not available, I will create them out of the very air we breathe. And I will do this everyday until I exhaust myself. I will do this until I am so depleted that the only way I can recover my energy is by becoming infatuated with with the ability to feel nothing. I don't want this to happen to me; more importantly I don't want this to happen to us. Whatever us that is. Be it the artistic creative us, or the us that we are becoming. But I already love you and that means that the "if" in this equation is no longer a possibility because it already is. So what are we becoming? Will I exhaust, deplete and self destruct in my attempt to carry for you all of your pain? Each version of me is a product of my relationship with someone. This confirms that our identities change based on who we are with. Who are we? Help me understand my version of this reality. Because I know I will look back at this moment in my life and I will understand that if we fail I will have mourned but my life will also have evolved. But that is not all that I want this to be and eventually everything goes away. And I don't want to become infatuated with feeling nothing.

Disambiguation

Dear Writers Block, Fuck you. Me.