his little whispers, "love me, love me."

Monstrous.

Unhuman.

Not alive, but not dead.

I was there once, in that state of mind called "fine and well" and I was doing good. I was good. And then love had to come and kill me away, and leave me further than where I was to begin with. I wish I had never learned to love. I feel like I'm loving too many, too hard, too fast, too long. And all these "I love you" "I LOVE you" "I love YOU"s are thrown around like a mad disease, only to come together... in a way that makes love seem so... insignificant.

Love is supposed to be beautiful, but I see no beauty in this oblivion.

In other news...
Sometimes I just be, and I think, that I don't ever want to grow up. Growing up means letting go, changing, and accepting all the other changes and letting-go's. It means facing reality, and settling with dreams that were [for most people] never really yours to begin with. You conform to life and to society, and all those quotes and lines and pearls of wisdom about dreaming and believing begin to sound like lies. We become bitter, but we use the word "mature" in its place. For it is far more mature to accept a situation and let things be than to think you could change it; to believe in something greater would essentially be 'immature.' Then the world never stops to question just when it was that children became adults, because to be a 'teen' is not a form of being, it's just a "phase" where everybody screws up, and nobody thinks anybody did any 'growing up' in their teens, because, really, they wouldn't be a 'teen' then anymore. Right...?

I don't want to stop believing in things that I know are true; I don't want to accept that I can't change things; I don't ever want to stop trying to change, because I'm so scared that were I to do so, nothing would ever be different for anybody else. I believe that all the people who ever existed that have made such a remarkable well, mark, on humanity are those that never really grew up and never stopped believing. They were the people that didn't live to procreate or to be successful or to simply get through life to start the cycle all over again. They were people who lived for the sake of living and being and learning and experiencing; they were those that lived so hard that they discovered that which everyone else had failed to see and, when finally understanding or hearing of it, they think it's either absurd or brilliant. It is neither; it is life, and it's what probably most of humanity fails to ever taste. We breathe, and our heart beats, and our eyes blink, our ears hear, our lips move, our mouths speak, and our skin feels... Healthy as you could be, you are never really alive until you start living.

And when you grow up and let go-- the moment you begin to forget is the moment the soul begins to decay and wither away; It's when a person really begins to die. It is that death which humanity should really mourn, for it is one of the worst and most tragic of all....

...that is, next to wishing you had never learned to love, for learning to love is learning to live. And thus, to wish that you had never learned to love is to wish that you had never lived at all.


"Wonder what it's like to touch... and feel something..."