dolorous interludes.

And he intrigues me once more. i dont believe i know who he is, truly, for what is knowing without seeing someone torn and worn. "the only puerile amongst us are those who have long fallen prey.", says a mysterious someone. he writes not to lure, i know this for certain, yet i am very much enthralled by his writings; drawn to him i am, as we are to a book that speaks to us. words count for nothing eventually, for it is the heart that feels sincerely and genuinely, and what is oft not said usually counts for the most. but yet, the heart feels, and oh it does, feels so much that feelings become just as insignificant.

despite the unreliability and multitude of diverse conflicting feelings, i choose to embrace it still, and be led by it. after all, what is life if we live it with half baked passion; and since feelings are the very engine to passionate ravings, embracing every nuance and feeling the full intensity of each strand of emotive prompting will be, in my opinion, truly, living.

i will not wonder, i will not rationalise, i will not calculate coldly; i will not say "i ought to" and therefore do. with this, i will feel; i feel you know me.

posted by voyeur @ 10/02/2003 04:34:00 PM