A Short Flight of Fancy

There was a time when I was searching for the meaning of love. I was conducting interviews for a research report on love. That was 5 years ago. Now it seems like 5000 years ago.

What was the conclusion? I have to be in love to know it. 5 years or so down the line, I don't know where I stand regarding this surreal inexplicable feeling. I was asking myself today if I really have to be dumb for someone to love me as much as I love them. And I mean love of any kind not just that between a strange man and woman. Am I pretty? Am I beautiful? Am I smart? Am I overweight or fat? Do I only have faults and nothing good to show? Is everything good in the physics of matter?

What I feel doesn't seem to matter. As of yesterday, I've been given a new title of Psycho. I have been told many times before that I feel too much. Maybe I do but I have wondered what is wrong with that? Sometimes, I think, it's because people can't feel much that they want me to be the same as them or maybe it's true about me being a psycho. Oh, it hurts so to be called that. This is the life of a woman who isn't pretty in someone's eyes (or maybe everyone?).

This is the first time, I'm whining like this about my discrepancies. There's no freedom of thought to be exercised. Even the artists today are too arrogant. I could sit down and analyse this like Plato but then what. It'd confirm to some that I really am a psycho.

Why do I suddenly care? Oh, I don't. It's just when it's a specific someone that it starts hurting as if someone stabbed with a blunt knife. Sick. I shouldn't care. Maybe that's how it should be. Already got too many problems and now this. God and studies are more important. I should be more concerned about how I'm going to finance my education then all this. Now I'm focusing again.

Thank you God for letting me spit it all out here and through all the stupid rivers I cried today. May this never happen again.