he does not deserve happiness. he does not deserve to be loved.

June 24, 2003 tuesday - 00:01

she carries a hunger inside of her. it is waiting, and as it waits, it grows. it reaches out, sending its tendrils beyond its home in her heart, searching for something to devour.

sometimes, the hunger finds something palatable. that she tastes, pouring all of her hunger and all of her heart into whatever has been found, taking it into her. there, it feeds the hunger and the hunger feeds it. and they grow. she has found something new to be hungry for.

it hurts her, the hunger, the feeding. but she cannot stop it, for it is a part of her. it is not up to her; she is drawn to the hunger and it draws her in. she needs it.

it does not matter what it finds, what she is hungry for. that is always different, but the hunger is always the same. the hunger is the important thing.

the hunger is what makes her throw herself into whatever cause dances by her. it is beautiful, the hunger turns it into something terrible. the hunger cares not what it feeds on: it is hungry. all it wants is food.

she understands a little. that her passion for anything is not because the thing in itself is so powerful is drives a passion, but because of the hunger. the hunger fuels the passion. the cause does not.

she understands a little. her love, her desire, her compassion, her sickness, all of it are false. they are but shadows cast by the hunger.

because of that, what in her she once thought of as false is, she now realises, the only true thing. because it is in her yet is not tied to the hunger.

that is the only thing that can save her from her hunger.

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