freaks

I prefer to love the lifeless, this that cannot love me back. I prefer to talk to the emptiness, even the echo disturbs me. I prefer to travel alone, eat alone and suffer alone. The old myth that we were created incomplete, that we spend our whole life searching for our other half is not true, because I am complete, I am all I need.

It’s a blessing really, not believing in love. I have a hard time believing in what I cannot define. What is love? It’s shapeless, odorless and immeasurable. Some say love is nothing but a sweeter word for the fear of extinction, an animalistic instinct of survival, the mere need to mate. I cannot agree more.

If you listen to the Aimee Mann’s Save me. When she’s asking her alleged hero to save her (from the ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone) I happen to be one of those freaks, but I –unlike miss Aimee- am not asking to be saved.

Or am I?