blah blah blah

So I had this weird dream, where I imagined Love to look like the guy from the Johnnie Walker whiskey brand, with the top hat and the cane and all that. He stands next to a girl standing on the top of this chair, who has a noose around her neck. I come in, the steps of my shoes squeaking against the wood floor. Johnnie Walker has this blank look on his face when I walk in like he's done this a million times before, and when we make eye contact, this huge grin spreads across his face, really slow and menacing. He twirls his finger around his handlebar mustache, screams at me that I'm too late, and kicks the chair out from under this girl. I run over to try to catch her, but I end up sinking into the floor, like it's become quicksand or something. So as I'm struggling against the quicksand, I can see her struggle too, thrashing around, kicking the air like something out of a bad kung-fu movie. The whole time this is happening, Johnnie Walker's just cackling away. The last thing I see before I sink into the floor, quicksand just reaching my eyelids, is her body go limp, swinging in the air like a pendulum. Johnnie Walker beats her back and forth like a teatherball, and I think to myself that Love's a fucking bastard.

Messed up, right?

I keep thinking that love is a matter of expediency. I mean, dealing with metaphors, the symbols that are used to describe love: it's a flame that consumes you, it's a melody that embraces you, it's the wind beneath your wings. But guess what: flames smoulder out, melodies end, and the wind has to die down sometime. So what you think is carrying you one minute drops you from the sky the next, crippled on the ground. Love is fleeting, frail, and never bound to one place. It's a kiss that lingers upon your cheek until you wake up and realize that the girl that left it is already walking away from you. Or so I think.

It's just one of many things that in our pursuit to realize, so as to substantiate our lives, actually wastes it away. It's like a noose around our necks. We struggle to get it off so we can live, but our struggling can make us suffocate that much faster. Okay, okay, enough with the grim imagery. What I'm trying to get at, is that we pursue love to bring meaning to our lives and in this pursuit we're wasting already too precious bits of life if it's unsubstantiated.

I tend to rush things a lot. I guess I want the head resting on your shoulder, finishing your sentences, spoon-feeding you, adorable gushiness that I associate with the feeling. But furthermore, I want to attain that sense of completeness that so many people seem to get out of it. I mean, that's why you do it right? Struggling through a sea of people, falling on your face over so many of them, so you can find that one special someone amidst that huge crowd who can fulfill any and all relationships you could ever want? Your counterpart, your leg to stand on, your other half.

I'm always in doubt concerning myself. I look back at a bunch of things I've done and think to myself, "what the heck was I thinking?" It's the same with my writing. I'm always embarrassed to read stuff I've written in the past; in fact, I'm never really satisfied with anything I've written in the present. So love is something I try to bulldoze through; I go through the motions of everyone else, rush myself when I see an opening, and see futures where I shouldn't be looking towards, at least during those particular moments.

Recently I've just been taking it a lot slower. I don't really try to make relationships out of the friendships I've made with girls. I used to think it was giving up but at the same time I don't feel anxious anymore, no more struggling with the noose around my neck. If it happens, it happens, right? I was always afraid that I'd be impeded if I didn't rush towards what I think is love: I'd be blind before I'd see you, I'd be deaf before I could hear you. But hey, there's a reason why that one Bible quote is always repeated at weddings. Love is blind and all that. I just have to be patient, because if I'm not, I might just rush past it.