Passionate people die fast, while those who believe in true love die young.

Emotions are just obstacles.

For one to be, one must be effective and efficient.

But why am I still feeling things? Why must my detachments be so numbing, and unfocused?

My will became my undoing, my humanness cannot be rid.

Somehow, the calm that I wanted became another calm. The smiling aloof kind that doesn't want to care, doesn't want to know....

A weakness, a crippling one. It watered down the enthusiasm towards learning, and working.

By seeing beyond beauty, and by focusing on the subjective ugliness of others, a confounding sense of hopelessness prevailed.

There must be another way around this.

For love and love alone.

And to learn and to love and to understand.

Those are the greatest of things, and also the greatest of my denials.

Sarcasm cannot help me, witty comebacks cannot solve real problems.

Only a living breathing person can.

Either that or God.

I want to believe.

Believe me, that's what I want to believe.

Labels: sorrow