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Wednesday, November 23, 2005

My Tales of Madness

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

HE had abandoned me under a delusion...

I have been picturing in HIM a hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from HIS seemingly chivalrous devotion.

Now, I can hardly regard myself in the light of a rational creature, so obstinately have I persisted in forming a fabulous notion of my character and acting on the false impression I cherised.

But, at last, I think I begin to to know HIM.

HE doesn't perceive the silly smiles and grimaces that provoked HIM at first; and the senseless incapability of discerning that HE was in earnest when HE gave me HIS opinion of my infatuation and myself.

It was a marvelous effort of my perspicacity to discover that HE does not like me!

I believed, at one time, no lesson could teach me that!

And yet, it is poorly learnt: for this morning as I announced to myself, as a piece of appalling intelligence, that HE had actually succeeded in making me hate HIM!

Can I trust my assertion now? Am I sure I hate HIM?

If HE'd be let alone with me for half a day, will I not come sighing and wheedling to HIM again?

I dare say I would rather HIM have all the seemed tenderness before me; it wounds my vanity to have the truth exposed.

But HE doesn't care who knows that the passion was wholly on one side; and HE never told me a lie about it.

I cannot accuse HIM of choosing on ebit of deceitful softness.

And no amount of brutality could disgust me: I suppose I have an innate admiration of it, if only my precious self could be secured from injury!

Now, was it not the depth of absurdity - of genuine idiocity, for that pitiful, slavish, mean-minded brach to dream that HE could love me?

HE is different - this is different.

The others were merely for the satisfaction of my whims.

This is for the sake of one who comprehends in HIS person my feelings for HIM and myself.
I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you.

What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained?

Now, my great thought in living is HIMSELF.

If all else perished, and HE remained, I should still continue to be;
And if all else remained, and HE were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger:
I shall not seem a part of it.

My love for the others is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as seasons change the trees.

My love for HIM resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
I am HIS! I am HIM!

HE's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.

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