Sunday, June 3, 2012

one. or the other.

I figured it out.

I am either completely and utterly enamored with every single creature around me all at the same time.  Except one.  (Calm down.  It's not you.  Well, actually, it might be this time, but cool your jets: it changes).  And that's the limit; there always has to be that one person who is not allowed to be a person.  That's the balancing point. And it's not fair.

But the other alternative is completely and utterly loathing the thought of even footsteps from anyone else on earth.  Except one.  (That one is you, all the time, each time.  You deserve it: to be my Person).  And there's something comforting within that.  Because -- who knows why? -- for some reason, I still get to receive love in the midst of my inability to be a person.  Which is more than I deserve.

They're isolating extremes.  One person to hate.  One person to love.

All those years of begging not to be lukewarm paid off.  Apathy is the enemy.

Well, except toward that One.

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