beautiful and lame

how many words are running around, oozing love ideologies,
wafting through radios, cinemas, letters, sadistically permeating and
luring the independent heart into submission, into bondage, into believing it's so easy?

too many to count.
numbers are irrelevant.

impact: applying a formula and entertaining frustration when it fails. miserably.

all i've learned is that it's all simultaneously beautiful and lame. i don't expect to learn much more. i'm merely here for the experience now, feeling my way through each individual moment, looking to be content in whichever moment i'm presented with.

"i hear ya, i hear ya, but don't be all butt-hurt when i don't fly out of my chair to answer the door, for i might be in the middle of being strong and sane and unable to receive guests."