The Self Aware Masochist

I have sat through thirty six hours of unbrushed hair and pyjamas, locked in my bedroom eating only astros and drinking stale wine from my water bottle. Why? Blair Waldorfe. *insert face palm emoji* I know this sounds ridiculous but Gossip Girl grips me with its basic plot of Chuck loves Blair then hates Blair then loves Blair. Pathetic as it may sound this in fact has happened, and this post is tribute to an episode wherein Blair fears that she might be the one that draws out the dark in Charles Bass Jnr.
This made me wonder then about how we say that we surround ourselves with people who defines us, we could just as well say we define those who surround us. So context being Blair’s epiphany shall we hypothesise that like moth to a flame, you can also be the mermaid in the dark of the sea lurring the seamen into the Bermuda triangle? Morbid? I’ll take it down a notch. We are all sugar and spice and all things pheromone. Who is to say that your particular scent is an sealed invitation of red sugars and a spice of best kept secrets.
The real question here is in fact this: Is it possible, even at all that there is a diagnosable condition? One that cause you to purposely reject all forms of real passion and sincere love, deliberately seeking the tastes of bitter wine from a chipped glass that is sure to cut your lip? What are the chances that one can be so broken that they seek out those who will unintentionally validate their brokeness? Can it be said then, that exists a people who have been made an accomplice to breaking a heart by the very keeper?
We are not always aware of the loves we keep. We often hope that they are the truest forms of it. And sometimes, should the stars be aligned they are. I think we are all believers of love, what it looks like, what it should feel like. I have momentarily allowed myself to miss that, watered-down what I believe in.
This is not to say that I no longer advocate love because I do. What we need is not always well dressed or adorably uncoordinated and sprinkled with random gestures of affection. What we need is unexpected, uncontainable, and impeccably punctual – wait for it.

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