reading the book of proverbs I came upon the passage which reads: a hope deferred makes the heart sick.
and I felt, at once, as if something was speaking to me. This seldom happens to me when I read the bible. In fact, I only got interested in the Bible and in Christianity because it made me feel so little. Something so neutral, I thought to myself, must be very special. Irrespective of my opinions, going back to the passage, it rang true to me because I feel as if I have been fixed on a single desire for a long time. The desire is for companionship, intimacy, and love.
I have gone through Europe and through where I live and I have not found it, even a single time, even in the slightest sense, with anybody.
In vulgar terms you could express it as "tfw no gf." But it has really taken a hold of me, for years, and led to...
Anyway, it's a deep spring of despair for me. I feel like all sins are drugs, and despair is one that I'm addicted to the hardest. Thinking certain thoughts, seeing certain things, when I am in the wrong mood, makes me almost tangibly feel a thick cloud of warm velvety despair flowing through my heart like a drop of indigo die dropped in clear water. It almost feels like how I've heard people describe certain drugs. That's why I call it an addiction.
I don't say that to be maudlin. It's really the best way of describing how I feel. How long have I spent thinking and desiring. And in the meantime, as the proverb goes, my heart has gotten sick. I have ceased to be warm and I have started to burn.
For a long time, I have been burning. I feel I can say that I truly understand the orthodox conception of the last judgment, when God floods the world with his fire, and the holy feel it as light and love, and sinners feel it as an unendurable flame. So grievously does innocent joy effect me.
Now I've actually been free of that awful tendency recently. But all the same, the thought of spending time with some lady... none in particular, really some in the most general sense...
Yet just the same I have been given long divine moments of peace and joy. Of course it's better to think of that. But all this hatred and misdeed arose from a simple desire, one I saw fulfilled in my friends and countrymen, that is to feel a great love for someone, unbidden, and to feel that love returned, and to express that love intimately. I have reached a point, or a point has reached me, where I feel almost as if I can go without licentious desire altogether.
It's a queer thing, but it's how I really feel. Now I did not obtain this freedom by self-discipline, or even any big intention. It seemed to fall on me like a blanket. In fact, for a while, I was concerned, because the sensation of orgasm had almost entirely lost its appeal.
There are moments when I am consumed with hatred. Because I feel... I could have experienced a great feeling of pleasure, but because it was somehow deferred, for so long, perhaps my body has decided that I am a failure