Something happened. I realized I have a new ability to love strangers. I been in denial perhaps for a while, but then I accepted it. I am able to see these things about a person that’s conflicted and contradictory, almost conceited. Because I feel the same. Wanting to be noticed and appreciated. Yet also wanting to be a fly on the wall, invisible. The perspective and privacy you have when staring suddenly changes the moment someone else catches you looking. I think it’s natural.

So my idea, as lame as it sounds, I guess, is… what if I break that boundary and… just put forward my pedestrian love. It’s a pedestrian love. Because I don’t want it entangled with much other than me, like, admiring an actress on TV. I see something I like, and decide to commit to it. I saw this beautiful young woman tonight at the local gas station—the air outside smelling of campfire—and immediately I loved her eyelashes. I literally interrupted everything and simultaneously disregarded what anyone would think, to say, “Loook at chuu,” to her. It felt really nice saying that to her. Not a care at all what she might think of my expression or mannerism. I felt what I felt, and it was real, natural.

This conviction was so spontaneous, as well. It blurted out of my mouth before I could be self-conscious. I don’t know. Maybe I’m a dying breed, in my prime. And this instinct to love others is some weird survival skill to tolerate others. It goes without being said I tend to gravitate towards women (although, with due respect, if it is a couple at hand, I can still tune into a sort of borderline telepathy, and understand why such a woman is with such a guy, as such). Such is such.

Speaking of which, tonight I acted out of my usual restraint. Curiosity found my weakness, and somehow I discovered a couple on social media that really, subconsciously, and also, instantly, just clicked in my head of the idealism I had in mind long ago, of what relationship I deeply wanted, and to show it off as a display of affection.

Keep in mind, these people are total strangers. No 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon about it. Sadly, though, I did realize how voyueristic I was; appreciating these imperfections that… made me like them more for it. Something relatable. It’s actually creepy, unfortunately.

It is for this reason I’ve had multiple soulmates during my life. All this waiting around for a sign, and then I get a metaphorical green light on my specific person, and articulate all this subliminal synchronicity… It isn’t exactly creepy because I’m not a con artist. I genuinely feel it.

Now… It might not do me much good, but I believe ordinary folk conceal this desire for interconnectedness. Similar to me, to a degree in which they bottle up all these pent up emotions, right, and explode with one specific person. It’s only human. Who will be the target is part of the excitement. That specific person becomes this one big perpetual orgasm of stimulation. And as a writer, I’ve learned to exploit this, to a specific extent.

I’ve taken something opportunistic and let it be the main subject of my will to live. Yeah, I also want to vanish, disappear, die. I hate the weakness involved being so vulnerable. But instead of letting it eat away at me, I, personally, not to advocate this strictly, decide to indulge this curiosity in whatever way it wants to manifest.

If I want something specific, I create a specific monster of it for my own. Sublimation, in fancier words. Sublimation works best with a fundamental belief that you already have everything you need. Going full circle here. I have all the love I need. So I give it.