The world is full of questions. None more pressing than the questions that we find we find posed to ourselves... by ourselves.



Today I have a question: Do I really need love?



Right away the answer, to me, seems quite obvious.

No.

I don't need it and it doesn't need me. I am quite content as of late to carry on in my own haphazard way fucking my life up step by step without worrying about the needs and feelings of another person.

I realize that right away.

But I am puzzled by the feeling of peace I feel when I find myself laying with Jun. He frustrates me. To no end. Just today I found myself arguing with him about the mindset of American people. I think he, along with a goodish amount of the rest of the world, feels a little put off by America. One might say he even hates America and that along with whatever baggage he may already have is clouding... affecting his feelings about me.

That doesn't bother me really. Actually it does.

I have become quite accustomed to the fact that many people will think lowly of me because of my country of origin.

What I can't seem to become accustomed to is my apparent need... for someone... for him.

Have I become so enamored with the concept of love that I am willing to accept and want someone who makes me feel so confused at times? Today after he snaked out of me the fact that i like him he kissed me. It was the most passionate kiss I've felt in a long time.

Actually it was wonderful.

I have in the past mocked those people who seemed to be sniffing out love. With their noses permanently to the path where potential love has already tread. Those people often make me think of dogs. I think I have become one of them.