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2004-01-12 @ 11:33 p.m. : >>
The Death Of Passion
I used to be in love with Greenwich, Connecticut. I used to feel that it was my home and that I wanted to live here forever and ever. It held a sort of magic for me.
Now I do not feel that way. It is a pretty place, I suppose, but somewhere I could take or leave these days. And I have other plans for where I want to live. I cannot really imagine living here. It would not suit me any more.
All attractions are short-lived. You hear a song, you feel you just have to buy it on CD, and when you do you find yourself rejoicing in the invention of the 'Repeat' button. Yet a few months later it acquires a place on a back shelf somewhere. For you have no particular desire to listen to it any more.
This time last year, I had a crush on someone wholly inappropriate and unobtainable (how typical me). He occupied a very large proportion of my waking thoughts. The thought of never seeing him ever again would, then, have upset me very much. But now it means practically nothing. I think of him rarely. I don't suppose I ever will see him again and that fact does not bother me in the slightest.
You cannot force attraction and you cannot make it stay either. Who knows in a year's time what I will care about? There will perhaps come a time when I will no longer care for Brighton and will not mind if I never get to visit it again. Although right now such a thought is, of course, quite unimaginable.....
The Death Of Passion
I used to be in love with Greenwich, Connecticut. I used to feel that it was my home and that I wanted to live here forever and ever. It held a sort of magic for me.
Now I do not feel that way. It is a pretty place, I suppose, but somewhere I could take or leave these days. And I have other plans for where I want to live. I cannot really imagine living here. It would not suit me any more.
All attractions are short-lived. You hear a song, you feel you just have to buy it on CD, and when you do you find yourself rejoicing in the invention of the 'Repeat' button. Yet a few months later it acquires a place on a back shelf somewhere. For you have no particular desire to listen to it any more.
This time last year, I had a crush on someone wholly inappropriate and unobtainable (how typical me). He occupied a very large proportion of my waking thoughts. The thought of never seeing him ever again would, then, have upset me very much. But now it means practically nothing. I think of him rarely. I don't suppose I ever will see him again and that fact does not bother me in the slightest.
You cannot force attraction and you cannot make it stay either. Who knows in a year's time what I will care about? There will perhaps come a time when I will no longer care for Brighton and will not mind if I never get to visit it again. Although right now such a thought is, of course, quite unimaginable.....