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It is but proper to note that I am unaccustomed to dating rituals and as such find it supremely difficult to filter messages both subtle and obvious. I assume this lack of experience has sidelined my efforts to fully grasp in writing the intricacies of love. However, I also firmly believe that singleness needs little explanation as it inherently provides an elbow room for its reasons to swarm and mingle. Is it my fault I fall for straight men who by all logic cannot reciprocate these tender words? Am I reconciling concepts which are better left on their own? Am I barking at the wrong tree and looking at the wrong places?

Indeed, by my own admission, I have grown distressed in my senseless and often frantic search for “the one”. Whereas most of my friends have made headways in their respective love and sex lives (the latter being more interesting during the cigarette joints we share), I am still possessed with an unlikely right-mindedness and conservatism to believe traditions still exist: that you only have sex with someone deserving of your body; that you only date one person at a time. That my thoughts sound peculiarly dated attests to virtue having become brittle with every passing second (and comment). And it is precisely because my virtues, morals, beliefs or whatever sense of right and wrong I posses, resist faddishness that I am left to write with scarce resources.

So if you ask me what I do write, what sort of poetry I create, then I am compelled to be honest. My poetry is theory. My poetry is vicarious living. My poetry is a stream of thoughts – thoughts which preoccupy me because of their genuine beauty, and which have eluded me for much the same reason. Is it without meaning in its lack of experience? Hardly. Is it profound? I would leave it as a matter of taste. And so despite my writings being online and accessible, it would be utterly foolish to regard it as insincere. Not that I would find it offensive. The medium is the message and I am but glad to take advantage of the technology available to create spaces, and express my attitudes towards certain matters. And that means I can start this post revealing my disappointments over my inexperience, and end it defending the cyber-niche that has been my outlet for restlessness.

Here is to the hopes I will write for something more than theoretical soon in my online diary.

Author’s Note: This is an edited version of the same post from my old blog. 

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