I yearn for something to write. But with not one particular topic at hand I find myself at a loss. For with many topics afloat I cannot set myself to certain.
Love is the obvious of choices. But when within my heart, and even my head, I see that it will never be; and it pains me to bring these feeling to light.
More than once I have found myself wondering where the fault can be found. Is it within my own ability to feign a fondness for one so deserving? Or am I destitute to forever yearn for those who have no merit to it at all. Is it in my conscience mind that I continually make these vulgar, self loathing decisions? Or do they happen by sort of fate and accident. And whatever the case will they ever seize. Will I awake one morning to a fact that everyone else seems to be able to see so clearly. A realization that I deserve to be deserved, and shouldn’t, couldn’t and will not settle for anything less. But until that day I wait; uneasy and honestly unhappy with love.
Waiting not for a storybook "prince charming"; no I came to the unsettling realization that those don’t exist a while ago, I merely wait for the one that makes me happy, even with his faults and even without them.
But what if he never comes? What if because I am foolishly running towards the ill-deserving, I find myself further and further from my "one". If "the one" never arrives will I forever chase after "the two", or will I eventually tire of the game and retire to a lonely but less tiring life.