Forbidden Fruit

     And lo, I have returned from the void to transfer into tangible form the stream of my thoughts. Have you yet noticed the my alliteration appreciation? It's somewhat of a trademark in my literary endeavors. ...but, I doubt a poorly kept diary would count. In any case, I found myself writing a novel on Twitter after having having been left to my devices, and was hit with the recollection that I'd started this very thing for such an occasion. What fortune!

     Every so often, certain stars align which create the perfect environment for introspection, stars which I've named "Up Beyond A Reasonable Time", "Recent Questionable Occurences", and "Lethargy". For these events to coincide is something to which I've no doubt become accustomed, and that's okay, I think. But now, as I again wander the maze of my mind, I can't help but think that something is exceptionally amiss.

     Have I lost you within my digressions? I don't mean to ramble, but I do mean to paint a specific picture. Perhaps I'll get straight to the point, something I feel I should learn to do quite soon, although, my propensity of hearing myself talk disallows these notions.


     What curse is it inflicted upon me so brings within my reach that which I cannot attain? Truly, the irony lies in the fact that said curse behaves reflectively: That which I do yet cannot desire must only also yet cannot desire me. It is thoroughly unfair, yet, somehow just in the idea that such only afflicts those already, however admittedly, are unsatisfied with their current situation. Am I speaking too cryptically? That's fine. I'll give you some time to sort it out.

     Meanwhile, I'll admit I don't particularly mind being single at all. My only complaints are that stuffed animals are not warm, nor can they carry conversation or engage in common interests. The problem with being on the market is that shopping is difficult, perpetuated by the fact that I am not a miser. I want the best, and won't settle for off- or store-brand just for the sake immediate gratification. Because of this, I didn't find a partner I deemed suitable until I was 21. It lasted a healthy while, but while we ourselves meshed well, nothing around us did. I will not say I don't miss it, but at the same time, living within a bubble was detrimental to myself.

     The point in that sentiment is that because I am so particular, and at the same time so passionate, there is injustice in the idea that recently, only those who can't (by moral obligation) indulge in it, do. And while I have caged myself from entertaining such musings because of my particularity, consequently, it builds to an uncontrollable degree. Then, there are those who will come along and see fit to wrench those bars from place, unleashing and inundating themselves in that which has been reserved, and I, unhindered and unabashed, fervently engulf them.

     I don't know what it is about me that strikes the fancy of these individuals. I find it flattering, I do, but I would be remiss to say that it's perplexing how often this happens. Reviewing past events has called to light a pattern where my (if I may modestly confess) bewitching charm captivates someone it has no business captivating, which is something I cannot help. It does create complications, as one could imagine.

     While I don't think it terribly binding, I do have to wonder why this happens, and if it will dispel. Why can't whatever magic permeating my being work outside this parameter? It's funny, though, because I find myself inadvertently embodying my favorite fruit: The apple. It actually happens to be my favorite food. They call it the forbidden fruit. They also say, "You are what you eat."

     Perhaps I should stay away from them.



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