Sunday, February 14, 1999

The story begins and ends here...

“What if I were to tell you that I am still in love with you?”

“It doesn’t matter. It has been too long. We are different people. We will always be different people.”

The story begins and ends here, I suppose. What else can be said for love unrequited other than it is absurd. Yearning lingers in the heart of the romantic and can never be fully expiated. Contentions attesting to the contrary are patently duplicitous. He fully grasps the limits of romance, ecstasy and pain. It is at these most intense points where he imagines himself and his beloved. In his mind, he lives at the margins – imagines the blissful union, but remains in fear and trembling of the distance between. The romantic needs the pain of separation. For the union of lovers casts finitude upon individual psychic machinations. In encounter he must confront his other in actuality. The torment of alienation, that ineluctable distance between lovers, remains endless. The romantic needs perpetual yearning and hunger to satisfy his desire for the boundless.