I suppose I treat people like records. I obsess over the fantasy of love. Fantasy love is much better than reality love. Never doing it is very exciting. So I play the fantasy in my mind like records... I repeat them over and over again until I feel I have gotten bored with the idea and I move on. It's quite vain to be honest.
A friend asked me today if I liked a significant other because I honestly liked them or I liked the challenge. I had never thought about it. I suppose I do enjoy the challenge. The challenge of making a person fall in love with you. Or the challenge of making someone realize how much they to you.
However, I never do much to turn my dreams into a reality. I will get so close to the top of mountain and then I run all the back down the way I came. So...I guess it is only my fault that I am left alone with my thoughts and furs. Yet, I am never disappointed by never getting the girl...or the boy in the end. I chose to be alone. It makes me happy.
I want to die alone. It may seem morbid to most, but I do not see being alone as a burden. I feel like I have so much to learn from myself and about myself. It is my occupation to dwell in the sickest parts of my brain so that I can understand myself more clearly. So that I can be happy without the shit, without the lies.
After writing all of this, a part of me believes I only say this to hide my honest feelings. I suppose it is. At the same time though, I believe these thoughts of fantasy to be true about myself. Sex is more exciting on the screen and between the pages than between the sheets. But, maybe it would not hurt to listen to one record for the rest of my life... Except, everyone ends up kissing the wrong person good night.
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