eccothekitten's Journal

errright
So like
I wasn't drunk. I wasn't high. I was bored. And feeling philosophical. And chaotic obviously. I really can't tell if it's finished or even a complete thought. Ignore errors.

PLEASE RESPOND [intelligently]

love.
Love is an accident. True love is. Real love. True love is a stupid term thats been austracized into this phantom divinty of chance and predestination and nothing sensible at all.
Real love is an accident. It’s only where you’d never think to look for it, and when you never want to find it. Real love is a problem. It controls you, it steals you, it contorts and warps you, it is your most dangerous catalyst that makes every evolution unpredictable. Real love is bigger than you, and it isn’t obsession. I’m not sure that obsession can ever become love, but I don’t know that it can’t.
Most people want this authentic perfection so badly, they’ve drugged reason to see it. They make it out in places where it isn’t, and you’ll find they’re not actually happy. They just want to be badly enough. Never ever underestimate the power of denial.
Real love takes time. I’m pretty sure love at first sight it as probable and common as (insert rare rare rare occurance). Love takes time. It’s so dangerous and unstable, there’s so much to learn abouta brain before you can love it.
People are a collection of faces. And no matter who you are to who, there are some faces you will never ever see, and some to someone else they will never ever know. There is no discovering, even mapping the blips in sociology as one person comes or leaves the room, unknown or not, hated, worshipped, respected, the details are endless and irrelevant. Every individual is a magnet for certain truths and repellents to others. Every environment inspires a different comfort, a different engagement, and you cannnot be in all of them. All relationships, as in objects and their relativity, are strictly unique products of unique ingredients. Like a kaleidascope. different every time, even between the same two beads. To love, you must trust, and to trust, youmust both familiariaze and accept more than the primarily accessable faces. And that takes a lot of time, and alot of.. variables.
Real love takes time, so much time. The science of your partners exsistence, I SWEAR, holds the key to the ability of your love. You can love them not so much by knowing them, but by learning them. Learn of their sweet soft quirks, the thing they have never told anyone, and never needed to, the way they hate laundry folded, the reason behind their beverage choices. There are two things to a being. what they are, and why. People’s guesses can be direct hits or blatant misses on who they think they see, when they look at a face they enjoy, familiar or not. You could love a bald head until you learned it was a Nazi movement. You could hate a kitchy necklace until you learn its the single surviving keep sake of a godly relative. Sometimes people do not even understand the importance of Why they are Who they are. They never really make the connection. And you will never notice if you do not take the time.
When hunting down this retarded emotion, most people suggest looking for your opposite, and some your twin. Attraction is born immediately where you and your new toy are the same, but it explodes when you are the same for the same reasons. When you both love not only this obscure band, but the same songs. The same lyrics, the same aesthetics and virtues pushing your eyes to percceive an idea as you do. How disappointing is it when someone says they love Nine inch nails, and you find they hate Fragile because it’s A) trendy with the wrong crowd B) soft, which makes it trendy with the wrong crowd, when really B) is what you call profound composition and the affectionatre soul pangs of our industrial sell out, Trent. But someone just like you will drive you nuts. when you both can’t get up early. when you both hate cooking. when you both want the soggy fries. There can only be one you. and your etherial twin needs a bullet.
Where’s the balance? How can they be like you and be your compliment also? how can they feed your weakness and need your strength, without competing for either? Which is predominant? I’m not even remotely sure. Let me attempt.
You love when your reasons collide. when you do as you do for the same reasons, even if its not the same things. When you like cottage cheese for the texture and not the taste at all, and they hate it for the same reason. are you not bound tighter by your love of texture if not by the same one? Can you be diametric in the manifestations of an identical passion and be harmonious? Profoundly?
No, I don’t think so. Well. I suppose it depends on the manner and measure of the detesting. You can pretty much control your exposure to cottage cheese. Maybe that’s not the right dichotomy for love exactly.
Like music. When two muscians are well polished, well educated, well exposed in fields each of the other DESPISES, do they not form respect by their handpicked opinions, cherished and garnered wirhout omissions for ignorance? Wouldn’t they gete along better than someone who could so blasphemously tout they did not even care enough to turn on a radio, let alone change the station? Someone who had no eye for music, didn’t collect, had no passion for it. DING dING DING, I found the word
passion
Passion - as in that in life which drives you, inspires you, exclusive of all other homosapiens, the thing which you would defend against all insulting eyes - the majesty of your 46 piece 800$ worth, handbuilt hand painted collection of transformers.... It’s that... light that is not at the end of the tunnel, it’s closer than that, the thing which you can turn to and swim in to be free of all petty, stressful things, it is your passion. your passion for life, for a special section of the mass, towering orchestration of life, the part of the painting that makes sense and entrances you.
Now... what about it has to be the same. The passion? the amount of it? the ability to share it, or willingness to? Isn;t passion the only thing that makes a human being possibly more attractive than tolerable. To watch them love, to watch them work for and on their love, love for cars for flowes, for cats, sand composits, trash heaps, fabric titles, elf species, toothepaste caps..... an authentic, longlived passion. is it not the reason mankind might not be perpetually loathsome? is it not the reason forgiveness is fathomable? Something here must be similar. But what?
It can;t be the passion itself. that’s too... dangerous. If two people could be so violently sensual about... I dunno, orthidontics, wouldn;t it collide eventually? Would the subject not be doted on differently? Would one not find the other’s choice of reverance repulsive, or at the very least flawed? What if he liked it in a patriotic sort of way, enamored by his alteration of some crooked smile and thus the secret godfather of the new beauty, whereas she just loved having her fingers in someone else’s mouth, found prefrance in being lord over the body in a bizarre gateway between the durable, firm shell and that tender, fragile, vuluptuous tissue that is the vulnerable inside known as the mouth, the body’s ultimate intake port. When they steal away to express their twisted guilty pleasure dressed in the form of a civilized profession and finally be understood, finally not retreive a look of complete flaberghasted contortion when the empathy elevator doesn’t reach down into that oral floor, would they not discover they are no further from being isolated on their own planet???
Maybe I’m just making an assumption: that afore mentioned phenomenon could exist outside of the propaganda that is media entertainment, and that that could be not only mine but every one’s deep down desire. To be understood, in the darkest, dampest crevice, in your favorite sacred place. Or is that just me?
I suddenly feel naked in my definition of love. I guess that should be standardized before I go off picking the idea apart let alone the word.

Current Music: right where it belongs

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