Wednesday, 17 March 2010

passively devoted to you

she strives for perfection. which i find is truly odd, considering she is the embodiment of such things, and all things perfect. this is a concept very alien to me: there cannot be such perfection, as even in the wildest of dreams, and the most bizarre of fantasies, perfection is a myth conjured to mislead people to the (unattainable) promise of... perfection itself. let me elaborate: perfection cannot exist, for if it did, it would be sublime, and much like chaos, begin to encroach upon things other, leading to the perpetuation of perfection, and the inevitable creation of a perfect universe. and to think that this process is already underway, is mind boggling. surreal. maybe i am wrong, and there is some form of perfection. maybe chaos in itself is a perfection that we cannot yet understand. and maybe imperfection is perfect, because it meets the criterion of self-propagation (though it is in no way sublime). or maybe i'm going about this wrong. one so imperfect can only think about things for so long before getting bored.

she strives for perfection. which i find is truly odd, considering there is no way such things could creep into my life, without me even trying; and yet she has. and now the standards and expectations which come with having her so high above me seem distant and cumbersome. i feel lethargic, just thinking of the many chivalrous deeds which should and would be expected from association with perfectionism. ah, how worrisome all this has become.

a friend once told me, that the greatest measure of undying dedication, of eternal subservience, of perpetual devotion, is the ability to stand up for another, irrespective of who that person may be. not just to stand up in the physical sense, but, perhaps more importantly, metaphysically. but how could i, if i cannot even stand a simple confrontation. if i cannot even maintain eye contact (even in a figurative sense) in a conflict (even in one of wits). then, how can i be perfectly, truly, madly, deeply?

she strives for perfection, but i cannot, because i am a pacifectionist.

i really enjoy writing these fictional entries, which i have tried to end in jest (and introducing a nonsensical hybrid word). in fact, to add some spice to the writing method, i don't think of the word i'm going to mash up (or words, to be precise), until the very last minute. i hope people have a blast reading them as much as i do writing.

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