I see so many of them…these people who sing a song of sorrow yet always they try again they always welcome the destruction of there own immortal soul. I can not understand this driving force which makes people welcome this agony into life. I do not understand how people will open the gate way to the very core of there being to another just to have that person jade the purity that was once there. Is the idea of being alone truely so horriable to some? Is it truely so hard to be fine with yourself and no one else? I don’t get how you can be so welcoming to destroying yourself and do not misjudge I know it works for some of you. I know some of you will find a happiness in another. But what of those who don’t? What of us who choose to be alone? Those of us who consider our emotions to be nothing more than an error in our system, to be a disease upon the body? I find it funny how people don’t consider that what they chase is not always love sometimes it is but attention you seek and honestly the fact you burden someone elses soul just so you can have some sort of focus on yourself is quite petty.

I’ve held many a lover in my arms I’ve shared my bed my soul with others and every time I found I hated myself more and more each time. I do not pretend to understand the reason people seek love so carelessly. I will likely never understand it because though I have loved many in my short time of life so far I have felt a far greater pain. Perhaps this is what people seek out then, the entire pain of the ordeal. Things used to be so easy for me when my soul was pure, before I had brought myself to the brink of self destruction. Why I find myself asking, why did I go into things I was not ready to face? Why did they come to me when they weren’t ready? The only anwser I can possably form is the fear. The fear of being alone the fear that they will have no one to hold in life no one to call there own. I have removed such fear from my life and with it I can say I am truely happy. I can smile truely and purely and be happy. But still people come to me with flirtious ways and no matter how much I let them see that I have no desire to have them they always come back. I almost wish to laugh at the fear I can see in them, watching as they claw to this desperation of love and being loved. I’ve noticed no one seems to think of what they are doing unto themselfs by this.