You look at people, and they bore the hell out of you because you won’t ever know them. Their facade is intact, whereas yours is not. Why do they make all that effort to hide what’s beneath? Most human interaction is surface-level, and it makes me want to cry sometimes. Not many people enjoy bonding deeply anyway. Don’t get me wrong. I find the strongest bond is when you walk away at its peak or don’t even get to that in the first place.
Yes, Diane gets with the hot guys—guys she feels strongly attached to, but she doesn’t get to be with them permanently. There has never been a point in permanence because it simply doesn’t exist. While this realisation makes it harder to sustain contentment “in the moment,” my solution is to play my current favourite song on repeat to elevate that sense of contentment until it dissipates. No one can take away from me that meditative state that brings beautiful peace from within. What makes it beautiful is its transience. Then, there is also longing. But longing is best nursed within fiction. Sometimes, a vivid dream heightens that particular desire and you incorporate it into your story. If your yearning ever gets fed, you want to make sure not to overfeed it. The next step is to walk away.
All you need is just one quick glance beneath each other’s facade, and you bond instantly without exchanging too many words. The details don’t matter as long as you have a strong imagination that is fuelled by—longing. There is beauty in not getting what you want. And it is a waste of a beauty if you do get it. A person’s life is none of your business.
