The day full of vapid moments, progressing with dull valor which has become nature for my weary soul was also cured with odious humidity and the sick heat of mid summer. Bored and anxiety ridden, I attempted to occupy my thoughts with less monotonous malediction of my psyche. This funk the lamb princess penelopes recent visit contributed toward did not originate in her, rather it was our relationship and the roles created between us long ago I had regressed back into. She was gone now, and I alone, with these thoughts of wrinkled love and my emotions. I found myself distraught with a yearning sensation, not for her rather the self I admired. It would be easy to attribute the state of being to her overnight sojourn here. Or I could blame her for the faded memories of our love, but these were not fair assessments. I could also make the heat the culprit responsible not just for the humdrum dog days of summer, but not hardly for the pitiful self loathing I felt this day.

I suppose that wanting and yearning for such an evasive, elusive and strange emotion in itself is detrimental to the acheivement and success of love. I hear often the cliches of well meaners that state,

"It will come when you least expect it."

This possesses truth in the nature of its origin, but an infinite amount of unknown variables must be accountable for the gains and setbacks upon the journey. Lust, desire, any and all of it blends together in a conglomerate of desperation of sex for love, for any bit of it. One can achieve these emotions by thyself, the longing originates and lives with the other. How strange that these sensations are inherit in all, but only possess meaning if another shares them. This reminds me of another cliche, I abhor these cliches...

"You have to love yourself before anyone else will love you".

Standard translation; be confident, lack the luscious desire for love and remain isolated with yourself, as you are already, as you may be forever. Get used to yourself, you may be all you ever have.

In the search for this love, some compromise their sovereign, independent being out of desperation, denial, or even stagnant monotony which this same day owns. The word the people who speak the cliches use is "settling", this is usually followed by, "He/she is too good for her/him". I find these notions ridiculous and will remain a romantic idealist who believes deep in my gut that love will prevail and that a "soul mate" is out there. This torrid day has convinced me that I lie to myself, that I too have been subjected to the traitors that have jaded all the others. I don't want to admit it, but this muggy day has sealed my fate as it is already tomorrow and I remain alone.

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