If I do end up posting this, it will definitely be a little scary for me.The "you" is pretty ambiguous- in the beginning it's refering to a specific situation and person and then it gets more and more generalized until the specific person doesn't matter anymore...
I was at the Trident today, with Bax and ran into (insert potentially embarassing name here). Bax thinks he's a total dork. He kind of it but I like it when someone embodies something fully, no matter what it is.But I don't like it when someone embodies something in order to avoid all else.Either my love for people is not reciprocated or I expect different things than what is often given. I'm not sure which is worse.
I should leave. I really should. I don't know what's keeping me here. It's him. I don't know if I like him, or am fascinated by him or enjoy his presence. Or am I experimenting and curious and learning? I like and am attracted to elements inferred.
I love. I really do love. And the only way I know that is because I also hate. Simultaneously and always. Right now. A ravishing emotional and primal response. of love and lust and hatred and destruction. It is so strong at times I cannot distinguish between the two.God- fuck. Im dillusional. I really am. I create my reality. I live conceptually and I have reality checks and watch my world crumble and crash down in on itself. The foundation not strong enough for the bricks and the house I build above it. 
Im essentially a cave in the side of a rock face by the sea. Water flows in and out of me. But never stays. I want so bad to be happy with, to base myself on- be content with, the knowlege (the faith?) that the tide will rise again and the water will again flow in and fill me and at times suffocate me and leave me again, drying and still.
You are oblivious to me right now, sitting before me, but still kill me- more than kill me, so much more. Fill me! and leave and come again and I do not know when I will see you next. And you filling washes me clean and puts myself into terms so I can look at, understand- or not- but love myself- maybe. For this. For hosting this teeming life that you shove in me and take away as yours. I am scared by everyone of you- everyone like you. And for you, it is just another surgery. You don't know the power you have over me- the life you can give me and take away as I sit- lie- euthenized underneath you. Vulnerable, open.My strength is in that openness. I host life. And am nothing myself and in that, I create an eternity that defies- creates a devastating paradox with- my very being. But I claim as well, maybe again just host, the diastole and systole of life and of love and hate.