While digging
through some old stuff earlier today, I happened to find a print of a
book I almost wrote at some point. Now by “almost wrote”,
I mean that I wrote 15 or so pages and then gave up, never finishing
it. So I read it.
It was a non-fictional, self-reflective work, much like this one. Only the topic was more focused and the format wasn't diary-like. Now, if I said that the theme it explored was love, would you be able to narrow down the exact topic based on that?
Well, it was essentially an exploration of my attitude towards love. I'm not joking – I actually nearly wrote a book discussing why love and anything related to it pissed me off. I hated love right around that time in my life. And while I still sort of do today, I've grown out of despising it in all its forms.
Or maybe it never was so much hate as it was longing for what I lacked. And still lack. Either way, I still recognize that feeling in myself even today. But it usually takes a very specific type of event for it to surface. An event such as someone mentioning their partner in a conversation or a couple displaying their affection publicly. It's not a feeling I seek to bring out of my own volition.
I almost felt like rewriting that book, but I figure the love-related ramblings in this one are enough for anyone. And I certainly wouldn't want to drive people insane. Unless I've already driven you insane with my ramblings here, in which case, I apologize.