(C#m, tell yourself as you're searching the ground, nobody cares, nobody cares-)
"If affection is made the absolute sovereign of a human life, the seeds will germinate. Love, having become a god, becomes a demon." (C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves)
Abba, Father, Daddy, King, -
How does one battle not the plights of circumstance, but the inertly fallen curse of love? To be in want of affection? How, indeed? For it is not the condition, situation or incident that is my demon, it is the ghost of things had, things longed for; things remembered violently that angst me. It is the inner core of a struggle against the give-love, and the need-love, the selfishly and selflessly created hurt in a masochism of hope.
This hope is killing you, Diana.
Well, dum spiro, spero- As long as I breathe, I hope.
And Neitzsche...Hope is the worst of evils, because it prolongs the torment of a man...
Dearest friend, you were so alone, and aren't we all-
Bipolarity. Perverted dichotomies of what should be and what is. The wheels in my mind will always turn a certain way, whether I will them to or not. It's inert, I can't change it, but I can't accept it, I won't forfeit myself to this legion, even as they all scream my name in regards to the lack of solidarity and curse of HOPE-and then, what is left?
The same as you: more confusion, torment and hopelessness than when I began.
b u t g o d -
(hope
in God, for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God)-
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