loving myself is the only option there ever was. I'll spend the rest of my life searching for someone to fill that empty space; always setting my sights on the unattainable, on he who is unwilling to weigh the chasm for fear of falling in; unless I take responsibility for what I know to be true, as these things are.

only I can love myself, first and foremost. I've got to realise that only I can fill that empty space because I am the only one who is always here--beleaguered in thought by a lack of consistency; however, this is the case. It is always I am who is left after the dawn and the inevitable dusk; it is I who pulls down the shade to avoid the sun and opens the window again when it rains; it is I who will take great strides to be able to count on myself when the wheel is turned, because there is no one else, it is only me, it is always me.

I have to learn to appreciate this instead of feeling fear. If I continue to seek external approval instead of my own I will never find satisfaction. I do not need you to tell me who I am anymore. I hold this pillow over your face as you are gasping for second life; you, you, personification of a pebble in my black rock garden.

I will dismantle this garden, I swear it; pebble by tiny black pebble. I will seek out my troubles, arrange them in order of descending importance, scatter them in a field and let the sun sort them out.

whose fault is this? whose fault is this ever; Mr. Rob Breszney.

'Happy Valentine Daze, Capricorn. I dare you to say the following to a special someone with whom you want to be closer: "Your face is true and your hair is perfect and I love you. You make boats in my dreams and you speak without words and I love you. Your fears unnerve me and your questions amuse me and I love you. I love you not only for who you are, but for the interesting person I become when I'm with you. I say I love you and love you and love you until the words become the constant song of your voice in my head and the original ache of memory in my soul. I love you more than life and death, more than everything that's in between the light and the dark. Do you believe me? Try harder. Do you believe me now? I'm always with you, which is why I know you will never abandon yourself."'

I'd like to tell you to shove it, Mr. Breszney, or however the devil you spell your last name. But I don't have the energy to be bitter this Valentine's Day; there's no reason to give undue attention to a fake holiday I usually gloss over anyway.

But. Point is the point. And the point is that I should stop spending so much time mulling over the answer to this stupid question (Life? A Lover?) when I have my answers and plenty of other questions to ask.