Deflection

I have a predilection for remedying ailments of unrequited love with diatribes against the frivolous pseudo-relationships that have become apparently mundane within the circadian rhythm of my markedly adult life. Inasmuch as I am nowhere near exempt from myself having faulted within the said domain of irrational and regrettable raw sex, usually initiated by the besotted text message sourced by usurping concupiscence, I am consumed by an abhorrence for all that it represents. If it is required for one to brave themselves for periods of an extended dearth in intimacy, an increase in introspection, and a general withdrawal of the old coitus, in aspirations of obtaining a partner who ineffably inflames the soul, mind and body - where does the intrusion of immediate satisfaction, amidst such a worthwhile ideal, become acceptable?

Where I have been weak in a moment, I inevitably felt emotionally emaciated from having temporarily halted myself from the one who should be sought after regardless of the arduous journey it may at times entail. To revise and redevelop from the old feverish pace that, as an adolescent, one follows, is to mature; yet as I have been freshly initiated into adulthood I find myself enveloped by what is actually still a transitional stage. These relationships drain and depress the potentiality of truly finding partners who inspire and compliment you - who are for you.

I am barely into my rhetoric, but I already feel alleviated, and if any curiosity was induced by the unrequited love statement above – imagine that I am Ben Affleck in Kevin Smith’s ‘Chasing Amy’.

-Swank