pretty & pathetic.

 



(1800-VIXEN-2-VENUS)

call for confession.




...




hello?

a crave & a confession is enough to make a vixen listen. (for the time being, at least).


Well, lately i've been feeling strange. I can't blame it on the moon, or my cycle (which syncs with the lunar cycle, regardless of the myth), I'm unsure where this can go and usually I can predict & prepare for episodes like I read the cable schedule. 

I wish for a lot of things; I wish to be good at what I love and what I'd love to love, so when I can't write it's my deepest heartache. I wish to reach all my short-term, long-lived goals. I lack motivation but never determination, and I recognise feasibility in these wishes. But in my mind, all I fantasise, all I think about constantly, is love, and adoration. I know this makes me susceptible to falling into rabbit holes finding wonderlands - the very nature of the city; but I'm not concerned.

I just wanna be loved. 

It's hard to admit but I confess how my heart tries and where my mind lies, stalking the very concept, envious of all the living beings of the world who possess what I can't seem to catch. When I say "I just wanna be loved." many may associate it with simple 'boy-craziness' or the result of empty lustful behaviour but I desire love in its actuality. 

I think I crave eros but I can only provide mania as a result of the deprivation. I think I need a figure to look up to, some sort of guidance. I imagine a future, all day, everyday (literally all day, everyday) where I am taken care of and given guidance and I learn from them, as they learn from me. In this fantasy, I know I have a home to go to, I know I have a person I can rely on and I know that I would do anything to keep this person safe, as they would, me. But this is nothing more than what it's introduced, a fantasy. 

I think that if I don't find this then the thoughts at the back of my mind that rise to the surface in moments of intensity and grief of nothing, were right. I don't like being wrong (i mean, i wouldn't know, i'm never wrong) but in this instance, I feel like I need it to be untrue. And if it isn't, I have nothing but questions to ask, to cry out the sky. Why would God make me destined for eternal isolation? Why can't I let go of this entitlement? How do I find solace in my troubles when melancholic envy catalyses the feeling, when I am reminded of how others can love and be loved? 

I know it's said that outside love cannot exist without self love but I've loved myself, I've adored my mind, soul and body for what seems like eternity and that isn't what attracts "real love". Personally, I find the advice to be unproductive and empty. Is there sin in my wish? Is there wrong with wanting more?

Pity me not for myself; Consciousness and beauty. Nonetheless, I confess that I tend to sink into desperation; it's truly pathetic.






vixen 2: pretty & pathetic.

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