Flowers and Love

I honestly forgot I had this. It's been a while but circumstance brings me here one more time. Along with a need for an outlet. Though I know for a fact that I do not have a fan base like my good friend Michelangelo does, even if he is a horrendous blogger nowadays.

My last entry was rather depressive. It's a bit idiotic to say that I wasn't in such a good shape at that time. Luckily for me, seasons change. Old loves are reborn and new people come into my life.

I was told that journals are good for finding your voice... which could be true if I wasn't utterly distracted by the beauty behind the entire Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. My iTunes, my choice. I think it just fits with my idea of a lazy Sunday afternoon, even if it has been lazy not by choice. I don't like wasting days doing nothing but lounging, because as much as you want to make this seem otherwise, it really is a complete and utter waste of time to do nothing. Same goes for instant gratification. All you could ever end up with is nothing. It comes and goes as quickly as a whisper.

Tending to my garden the other day I couldn't help but wonder, when did we [humanity] turn into parasites? We walk around, looking for the first flower that catches our fancy. We want to satisfy our 'fix' within the first person that makes us feel physiologically challenged. We clamp unto it, feed like there's no tomorrow then separate and dance our way into another scenario of equally minded imbeciles.

Our world, our lives, our loves all share one common ingredient: they're all shallow. We expect it all to magically turn into a fairy tale as if wishing it would be enough. Yet we sleep around, betray, cheat, lie and generally use up the person until nothing is left. The same nothingness you were running away from.

We don't honor love. We don't take care of others so by default we slaughter our hearts. We don't tend to love. We cease to believe it even exists so our guilt doesn't taint the already soiled experiences that go hand in hand with promiscuity. A bit redundant, isn't it?

I am no saint. I never have been. I admit that more than once I've been tempted to fall into that particular abyss with shiny neon lights and watermelon flavored condoms. It's not worth it.

Never would I change the thrill and the simplest joy that fills my heart when my little bud blossoms into a beautiful flower after I've devoted myself to it's care. Knowing well enough that it's not forever makes it even more worth while.

Weighing

Seems as if my migranes finally have a semi-reasonable explanation. I am in need of glasses. Yes. It is quite shocking though I'm pretty sure I can pull off the look without any problem. I'll look quite dashing either way.

Trying to avoid thinking about what I am supposed to be thinking isn't working for me. I am loosing my senses, I want to distract myself with noise or do things I've been postponing. For example, arranging my books in alphabetical order, colour-coordinate my closet, tend to my poison garden, along with a few other miscellanous activities.

As that song says, sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same. The hardest thing for me right now is being able to think properly. I don't want to think. I am afraid of the conclusions I might reach; conclusions that might shake the very foundation of my being. And caused by something so stupid. A petty fight that basically opened a can of worms.

Now, I am not one with a flair for the dramatic, I actually criticize the behaviour. I don't bother with the theatrical, over-the-top expression of 'feelings'. I do not like overthinking or exaggerating the problem. What I am going through is not a problem. It's... an epiphany of sorts.

I do not know what kind of moral values I have at this point, which is baffling to me. I thought I was this certain way. I thought I wouldn't engage in any sort of involvement whilst I was in a serious relationship... Allow me to rephrase that in a more realistic sense, I wouldn't engage in any liaison that would last more than a few weeks. While it is true that my relationship with Philippa is nothing as it once was, and that by no means is an excuse, I still feel great care and esteem towards her.

Because, let's be honest. We are involved in some way. Even if it doesn't have a name. We are involved. To be honest, I didn't think it would last. She just got out of a very traumatizing relationship, she despised anything that was remotely British, and she had a foul temper. However she was very attractive, fun to tease and... experienced in the bedroom.

I am not someone who likes to divulge sensitive information in a careless manner, so don't be surprised. I do have some dignity left. I do not feel comfortable talking about this. I feel I still need to think, reflect and mull over. My options, my choices, my course of action. Though I am 99.9% sure of what I have to do and what I will do in the end. It's that 00.1% of doubt that concerns me.

I am not a man of whim.