Gargantuan

Just watched an old episode. At the end, the writers speaking as Chris:

"I know most of you have been where I am tonight: the crash site of unrequited love. You've asked yourself, "How did I get here? What was it about her? Was it her smile? Was it the way she crossed her legs, the turn of her ankle, the poignant vulnerability of her slender wrist. What are these elusive and ephemeral things that ignite passion in the human heart? That's an age-old question. It's perfect food for thought on a bright midsummer's night. Hey, you said it best Will:

Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind
And therefore is winged cupid painted blind

Yeah."

The unhealthy part comes when every day is like this. When every love is unrequited. After awhile you start to fall into a pattern. You obsess for a week or two, knowing deep down nothing will come of it. And eventually it fades.

I often wonder what it must feel like to be in a normal body and not know what's going to happen; to avoid that sense of inevitability, throw the dice and take your chances. What possibilities must dance in their minds, with blinded cupid flinging arrows at random in the hopes that one will strike home.

But after awhile, after years of it, you begin to feel as if you don't want to inflict yourself on anyone. And that's where the rot sets in.

Some days, more often these days, I can say "fuck it" and get on with things. Not so much tonight. Talk about wallowing! Pass me the serotonin, if you'd be so kind.