pixelated.me

love.

i really believe it can only exist when two equally fucked up people come to understand both sides of pain.

breaking hearts and having yours broken.

that pain. that scaring permanence of loosing love that I'd started feeling was as constant as consciousness is the only thing jaring enough to have made me finally figure out who i am. (apologies for switching to first person but it was necessary)

So i stopped looking for damsels to rescue. or beautiful fucked up girls, broken girls, wounded girls who i could wrap in my sense of centeredness*

i want awareness of humanity. our condition is flawed. we slam into wisdom like jumpers leaping off tall erections and crashing into concrete.

I'm still learning. realizing how reluctant i've been to forgive, how much the loathing simmered and settled into a substrata that helped me force a distance between me and that one person i once loved so utterly. But i have to let go of that hate. It's no longer serving any real purpose, except ironically to tie me to her.

in hate as i was in love.

enough now.

enough.