Today I had to stop what I was doing at work and call into question whether or not I still believe in love. I guess there has always been this division of love for me, many different varieties and flavors, and the more I start to tear down the dichotomies in my way of thinking, the more I start to feel that I may never be able to fall in romantic love (or "true love") ever again. Up until this year there has always been this imperative in my head to find "the one" who I guess would be the end-all-be-all of women and I'm not exactly sure that she exists. I feel as if a lifetime of idealism is starting to erode away, ceasing to be a part of me, and if it is a false mode of thought, then that is a good thing. But if this is a degeneration, then it is quite a frightening one.
So much in people's lives revolves around the acquisition of a loving relationship, and to be severed from such a commitment has the potential to leave me adrift upon an endlessly shifting sea. This utter lack of stability would undoubtedly destroy my reason.
I guess I still want to believe that it is possible, that true love can and does exist, and that it will for me one day. I am open to the possibility. But I'm a skeptic of all things until I know them to be true, and there is an inescapable air of pessimism that can't help but accompany skepticism. There is an energy to passionate and idealistic faith that finds no comparison in the former.
Again I find myself standing on the brink of profundity, tasting enlightenment. It suddenly occured to me that perhaps it is better to believe what you wish than to rely on what you perceive to be truth. Regardless of what the world impresses upon us, maybe we have the ability to create truth by being embodiments of that which we believe in.
So much in people's lives revolves around the acquisition of a loving relationship, and to be severed from such a commitment has the potential to leave me adrift upon an endlessly shifting sea. This utter lack of stability would undoubtedly destroy my reason.
I guess I still want to believe that it is possible, that true love can and does exist, and that it will for me one day. I am open to the possibility. But I'm a skeptic of all things until I know them to be true, and there is an inescapable air of pessimism that can't help but accompany skepticism. There is an energy to passionate and idealistic faith that finds no comparison in the former.
Again I find myself standing on the brink of profundity, tasting enlightenment. It suddenly occured to me that perhaps it is better to believe what you wish than to rely on what you perceive to be truth. Regardless of what the world impresses upon us, maybe we have the ability to create truth by being embodiments of that which we believe in.