Cited from Wikipedia:
Love is a condition or phenomenon of emotional primacy, or absolute value. Love generally includes an emotion of intense attraction to either another person, a place, or thing; and may also include the aspect of caring for or finding identification with those objects, including self-love. Love can describe an intense feeling of affection, an emotion or an emotional state. In ordinary use, it usually refers to interpersonal love, an experience usually felt by a person for another person. Love is commonly considered impossible to define.
The concept of love, however, is subject to debate. Some deny the existence of love. Others call it a recently invented abstraction, sometimes dating the "invention" to courtly Europe during or after the middle ages (though this is contradicted by the sizable body of ancient love poetry). Others maintain that love really exists, isn't an abstraction, but is indefinable; being a quantity which is spiritual, metaphysical, or philosophical in nature. Some psychologists maintain that love is the action of lending one's "boundary" or "self esteem" to another. And others attempt to define love and apply the definition to everyday life
I don't feel good. After reading this, it would seem that anything and everything can be described scientifically. I refuse to believe that if something like love is possible it can be defined in lehman's terms. My head is throbbing, and my chest is being twisted in knots. I can't explain it, but it's been this way ever since last weekend. Once again I feel myself slipping into obscurity, entering that miasma of ambiguity where nothing matters but my own depravity and self-loathing. I really hate that, because I find it worthless, but I can't stop it from happening. It's like when you watch a t.v. show and cover your eyes because you're embaressed for the character. I can see myself thinking these foolish thoughts, typing these foolish blogs, doing those silly little things to get the attention that fuels my primal, primitive side.
I want to be with her. But who is her? At this point in time there are 3 "her"s, all of which hold equal standings in my mind. It's nice to lounge around all day, to just be in their company, but is that really all love is? Could it be that this foolishness called love has no depth, but is merely a shallow wading pool of comfort? No. The love I want is something far greater then this pettiness. Then there's her. The 4th "her". The her that will never feel anything for me, the one who already has another "him" but still bends me to her will. Ha ha, I say "bends me to her will", but the truth is I let it happen. My best assumption is that my primitive side likes the feeling of being needed. To give her what she asks of me, while returning little to nothing. And the side of me that I percieve as "cultured" truely enjoys this, is madly infatuated with the picturesque image of humanity dirtying itself, lowering itself to fuel some carnal, childish humor. I do not want this. Not at all. But where am I to go? I wish someone could just talk to me. But we never talk. Not with the 3, we just lounge around. That's ok. But the 4th. I feel like things might fall into place, even a little bit, if we could just have one talk that wasn't about her petty relations, what she wants from me, and why I don't have it. I want to know her, not what she wants. I already know what she wants, and spend the bulk of my free time amassing it for her. But that is irrelevant. I know it will end. Possibly someday soon. But I pray to whatever God will listen that she opens to me sometime before the end. I may love her. I've said it to her, but perhaps it was simply out of desperation.
I want to be everywhere.
I want to know everything.
I want to fuck everyone in the world.
I want to do something...
That matters...
