2016

This is my symposium
Or what does love mean to me?
I expect some say it comes from inside them.
Or envelops all things in existence, equally.
For some an emotion, a state of being, or an act to be performed.
All things, energy, the all knowing God in all his forms.

To me its an experience. Its breathing and beating, wake and sleeping without a second spared, of thinking of one person i havent seen in five years. Its the absense in my life, of something that i once knew and cared for, defining who I am and who I will be, how I will be remembered forever more. The thought process in rest, always returns to after every idea. The dreams every night which i cannot control; frozen in fright of how i saw it unfold. I don't actually wish i could love another. But sometimes i think about it, only to realize its impossible. Concievable, maybe but to myself a betrayal. Not just a promise broken, more, self deception, a denial of all i understand and can control, of the metaphysical universes objective and in my mind (to myself) twofold.
I therefore awaken to anguish for my unchanging future is forever to be alone. No hope.

And that is love. Living with no hope for a savior. I am dead to her and to her I am a creature devoid of  love, a nusance, a waste unholy in nature and for that i forgive her. I hate myself too. I hurt her before, and for that I will never forgive. I impeded her love with selfish sacrilage. I embarrassed myself in the name of love with violence and rape. I begged on my knees and threatened my life. I cut myself with the edge of a knife. I threw anger through her windows while i stalked outside and watched her from rooftops till she would hide inside. I fought over friends and gifts i had given. I severed every tie and retreated home, did not listen. She maybe still needed me (like an addict needs to poison themselves) but i blocked myself from her, to hide in my new hell.
I've created this world to suffer my fate. To me love is nothing more than something i hate. But Gabrielle i still love with all of my heart. If there is a reason I'm alive its to not bear her what little pain it would cause her to think of me again.