My New Take

on love.

It's no news that I've recently started reading the Twilight saga. I'm not very much a fan of Meyer's writing, but I can't deny that it's an intriguing story she has woven together. As much as I hate to admit it, my views on love have slightly shifted.

It's one thing to be attracted to someone, strongly or otherwise. But being in love, to put it frankly, is not something I've personally experienced in any of my past relationships. It saddens me a little to think all my supposedly significant others have been no more than silly little trysts. As much as I despise romance in all of its sickeningly cliché grandeur, I find myself wishing someone would--no--could love me with every fiber of his being. More so, I wish I could succumb to romance in its basest sense.

Apart from that, I sorely long for an anchor. Life has merely a weak claim on me, and its grasp weakens with every passing hour. I lack purpose, and it's driving me insane to go about each day without a sense of direction. I don't even know where I'm really going with this entry.

Something is terribly out of balance with me as of late, and I've been pondering any and all of the possible solutions my ridiculously feeble, uncreative mind could come up with to tip myself back into equilibrium. I'm not making much progress. I don't know exactly how to put my predicament into words. It'd be easiest to say that I'm in a state of general disrepair. Nearly half a year has gone by sans tragedy, which I guess is a stroke of luck considering how prone those I hold dear tend to be to untimely death. Yet here I am, as numb as though another precious friend has testified to life's ephemeral nature.