The Four Letters

Of extreme ends, it bears the command of death. Love. I can love you so much that I'd die for you, but my love for you hurts so much that I can die. I learned the hard way, perhaps just the longer path, in realizing that love should be unconditional. Since I doubt love, it does not worth as much as stability and peace. But stability and peace will eventually get dull but love is a river valley. Love may worth the ride and pain to encourage teamwork and build a rapport between two raft paddlers.

How do I fight this persistent human need of warm touch and constant attention? Has it become a need for me like how a newborn child? Will I die of lack of human contact like an orphan infant? How do I answer these questions to myself?

I am in the quest of being independent. Can I be completely independent when I am always in dire need of financial assistance and human compassion? I asked for independence, and yet, I am getting loneliness as a deadly consequence for my social-butterfly self.

I am a contradiction. I tease everyone for the closeness they have with their lovers. Could it be just envy a production of my solitary state of mind? I am not as lonely as I may think I am. I have companions. But I choose. I filter. I suffer these decisions I made. Or I am not?

These thoughts shall ponder and be shared.