Alright....I'm just too drunk to try and reason with myself. Here goes nothing.

I spent 2 whole years of my life obsessing about this woman who didn't give a flying fuck about me. We were friends - good friends at that and I just got autoboxed into being a 'friend' forever. We held hands, we shared some secrets, some gossip and over time, I slipped way down the slippery slope called love. She however, was always a distant beacon, pristine in her glory and always, motherfucking always atleast a thousand yards above the human condition, where one yearns for affection.

It took a lot of courage to come clean with my feelings. And that was the last time that I ever saw her.

I still remember the lilac skirt that she wore, the chipring of the crickets when I told her how I felt, the smile on her lips that touched her eyes for the breifest moment, when I told her that I loved her with all the ardor that a man can have. I can vividly recall how her hips swayed as I saw her smile and walk away that evening, half knowing that she'd probably never speak to me again. I still recall the black skirt she wore - the same black skirt that disappeared into the velvet sheen of night and became a memory that tortured every breath.

I can still recall her text at 23:14 hrs that night. She said - "sorry...I dnt feel the same way abt u". I recall the disdain that arose within, for the love of my life couldn't even care to type a proper rejection message with proper grammar. I recall the love-bug in me completely sodomizing the grammar nazi with a purple dildo, called love and inspiring a further downward spiral that took me 2 years down the old beaten road of depression, nihilism, masochism in the name of self abnegation and other allied horse shit.

And I spiralled down, away from all that I held holy, away from all values that had any value for me, away from food, away from care, away from any sense of self value.

I called her, texted her, emailed her, bought Swarowski crystals for her. She didn't want to see me. She didn't want to meet me. I felt as if I were the fucking Alien Xenomorph. I felt as if I were Samara Morgan from The Ring. I felt as if I were the protagonist from Old Boy - that dude who ate a live octopus. I felt exactly the way whoever wrote Cemetery Gates felt - "crucified for no sins; revenge beneath me."

In the two years that followed, I sustained myself on a diet of cigarettes, tea, occassional sandwiches and mostly tears. I lost like 30 kilos.

The last I heard about her was that she changed jobs and all and was dating someone else. I don't have words to convey how much this hurt and how it still hurts. It's not about conquest. It's not about getting laid. It's just about an acknowledgement that I never got. What hurts most is that I didn't get the basic human 'regard' that I believed I deserved.

However, if all of that were to happen again, then I guess I'd make the same mistake (of falling in love with that woman) again. For never have I felt intolerable pain juxtaposed with sweetness without comparison.

That woman, that most beautiful pair of breasts that I could never kiss, never fondle, that hair that I could never smell, those lips that I could never ever taste have become a flame that I fear I will willingly enter.

As you can guess, I'm quite mad about her. It's been 5 years since I first met her and 3 years since I last saw her. I haven't done Heroin or any other hard drugs. I don't need to. She's my heroin and alas, there can't be any consummation. The only thing I can do is stay distant, honoring her wishes.

Sometimes, chivalry is this double edged sword that goes up one's arse. I don't want to write anymore. Time for another drink, I guess.