This is the passion that so obviously prevented me from achieving any form of clarity in my thinking last year, this is the element of me that identified with Nietzsche’s suffering, though he maybe never recognized it as such. I am burning on the inside, all ideas impossible to hold onto, for every thought is broken by the presence of you in my heart. The door crashes open and in marches your ghost....I won’t, no I can’t do it yet, I can’t turn you into an idea, it only makes things harder anyways.....fuck this shit.
This is the passion that prevents me from caring about anything at all other than that which I have tried to let go of...that which I have removed from my life. Whether or not the anxiety is alcohol induced or merely the result of a sober acknowledgment of the love I stand to lose in letting go of you...there it screams from my chest. But we are already lost to one another, we both know this...i’ve given you the answer by giving you the problem as clearly as possible, nothing left now but the crying...all we lose is the present tense-this consoles me very little, for a present that is void of the possibility of your loving presence is quite different than one with you; though alone a lot of the time-with you in mind I am not lonely. You letting go of me....now I am lonely and alone. I acknowledge you now passionally...it hurts. The passion that prevents life from taking place, while colouring reality with its only believable shade; sheathing city streets in the grey beneath an infinitely filled sky of storm clouds, filled with tears longing for release-but I refuse to grant myself the luxury of letting go- I don’t deserve the easiness that awaits upon forgetting you-for I could do it so easily, and this human ability sickens me-I hold you at the forefront from here on out, I owe that to you-love is hell, hell is love. A million storm clouds filled with tears, obstructing the illuminating power of a sun that awaits her chance to act in the blue above-all shall remain blurred and obscured in the drizzle of this passional fog that I refuse to fight through out of respect for you.