Endless Noose by Jeff (sci fi books to read .txt) 📕

love? If I see him on that street when I decide to return…oh what a man he must be! I will marry him that night.’ Oh yes, yes! She could be thinking those thoughts. Verbatim! If she is thinking those thoughts I will give the world for a few seconds of her embrace. I will figure out the truth behind love by standing up; no longer in my mind will I define its meaning, but in my heart and soul. I must believe that is how God wants it. Yet I cannot shake off the pure sting from her absence. Even if this woman, this perfection of woman, shows up tomorrow, her absence will always be in my mind forever, like a scar! I will never forget. No, I won’t forget!. Tomorrow, I will return to that spot, and put faith in the decisions of fate itself. I am worried I may not be in love with this woman, but am merely treating her love as an experiment. Hush! That is false! If only that thought never had existed in my mind. This woman is worth waiting for till my final days, I will go without bread if it means kissing her once. Yes, I will go to the spot tomorrow, and have faith I will see the woman with my umbrella.

THE FOURTH DAY

My mind and Will are fatiguing. My heart is beyond ill, though perhaps, it is still curable beyond all conceivability. Three days it has been, three visits to that street, three. Each time evokes the same sensations in me; if it possible at all to describe sensations with words. I feel as I am walking toward the spot on the road, that I, God willing, will see the faint markings of my umbrella held in the hand of this beauty, and the umbrella becomes more defined, so much so I see the dents, and the one hole that was made when it got caught on a tree branch many months ago. Oh, how I wish I had gotten that close to the umbrella. Not yet, maybe never. No, it is not the time to think in such absolutes, it is unsafe I tell you! My body will degrade, my flesh will rot before I give up on seeing my love again. That’s right, my love, I swear I have not lived until I gazed into her soul. What? You don’t believe that I will go to that street until my death! Who are you to question my unwavering faith, my tenacity. Love is an adventure, love is a war. There is pain, that sir, is inevitable. There may be death in love, but are there any higher stakes? Is love not holier than God Himself? He would not want it to be any other way, where would Humanity be without Adam and Eve. Hush! I am being overly-christian once again. I’m rationalizing my sick obsession for this woman I hardly know with piety. I disgust myself. Oh, but maybe that is the purest form of love. The paradox of being so unaware of so much but so very aware of the love. Yes, I am deciding right now, that is how I feel. Nobody can take that away from me. Perhaps now I will drink, and fall even deeper into my straits for this woman. She has changed me, my soul – but for good or bad? Good or bad, what does that duality truly mean. I can say with confidence Good and Bad (whatever that ends up to mean) has no relevancy in love. What did neitzche say, ah now I remember: “acts of love take place beyond good and evil”. I am to agree with nobody if I am not to agree at all.Love is beyond constructions, understandings and one’s and twos. He who tries to understand, to make sense of, to deconstruct love is a bastard! A disgusting, lonely bastard and that is something I will never resign myself to do. Or perhaps I am doing all of that as we (we?) speak? I am now feeling overwhelmed, with what feelings I can barely pinpoint. I believe I shall get drunk, how I wake up in the morning is neither here nor there; for if I see the angel with my umbrella, any possible physical ailment will be instantly cured! Enough of this, I am craving many shots of vodka. I am not a lonely man, I merely want to get drunk before I sleep.

THE ELEVENTH

Filth, I report to you dear reader, pure filth. That’s the core of the human heart! I want to meet the man who can prove to me otherwise. How has our species sustained for so long with such filth ingrained in us? How does man connect, and find meaning, when he knows his neighbor would rather burn his house down than rebuild it. Filth! Filth! I am ashamed to be a part of it, an integral part at that. It no longer seems sensibile to me for man to venture for love and companionship; all he will get in return is a mirror! And in that mirror he will see ugly, pure, filth. Is there a better indicator of truth than a mirror? If you look into one, you just see endless reflections of who you might be. Doubt me, call me a cynic, find me the evidence, I will reply, and you will cry when you agree with the truth. Ha! But, perhaps I will respect the man who is willing to cry, not just let a teardrop escape his eyes, but a full-fledged weep, because I say a man is incomplete if he is unwilling to dive headfirst into his emotions. Yes, and that’s what I am doing right now. I am a sick man, dear reader? I am mentally ill, a maniac, you say? I ask you to search, no, better yet, dig, dig into your mind, dig into your soul, and you will see the darkness of my thoughts as frighteningly familiar, frighteningly, dare I say comfortable. That’s right, dear reader, you too are a retched, primal, filthy man! The more you deny it, the more it holds true! Ha! A paradox confines you, my silly friend. I have now returned to that spot on the street where I have met my one love ten times, and I have yet to encounter her and my umbrella. But I am no cowardÍ when I make a commitment; the only threat of me breaking my word is death! What I am expecting, I expect nothing from life. I do not go to that street every afternoon expecting to see the beautiful woman holding my umbrella, I go knowing there will be a result, and I will react to it, that is all any human can truly admit is possible in life. What, is that dear reader, you say I am over-simplifying? I am trying to minimize the overwhelming filth of our species. We say we love, at best love is accepting another’s filth as tolerable. What is love and romance but an over-glorified symbiosis, a symbiosis involving the most disgusting species on this planet. Filth! Tomorrow afternoon I will go to the street, with the same enthusiasm I have had the past ten days, hoping to see the woman I love. She is quite a beautiful woman. I have nothing else to say.


THE FINAL DAY

Finally, the twelfth day, the woman returned to the street. She was more than I remembered her, she was beyond word- there was holiness all around her. As I walked closer to her on the street, one aspect of her positioning fascinated me. Instead of holding my umbrella, as I would expect out of courtesy, she had the wrapped umbrella rest on the ground by her feet, somehow the umbrella had an air of sadness to it, how to explain this I do not know. My enthusiasm slowly waned, not to say I wasn’t extremely eager to reunite with this woman despite the suspicious layout. This time around, I can say with confidence, dear reader, that I remember our conversation like there is a script in front of me. Let me attempt to recite it to you; excuse any potential pauses, as with anything emotionally taxing, extra wll is required to complete the task. “Hello, My Love. I am relieved to finally see you. Your beauty is refreshing!” I say, now I realize there was a small amount of desperation in my words. “It is nice to see you again as well (nice?). I must ask, you came here everyday looking for me, hoping, or possibly, expecting to see me?” She asked, possibly in a condescending tone. This was not the angel I remember encountering. “Yes, yes! And I am proud to admit it. I would be dead before I would quit coming here. Your love, your embrace, is worth my life.” Those words came from the blood of my soul, painful yet impossible not to utter. “You are a unique man. Ha, now I remember I do not even know your name…” “Leon!” I shout impulsively, oh how I must have looked in front of this woman! “Leon, you are a unique man, of a special character. I am not able to articulate it further than that. There is a part of me who is truly honored and flattered that such a man would be so dedicated to see me, to come to this street for twelve days in a row, without slowly questioning my faith more and more, day after day. Oh, I acknowledge that part of me exists, but a larger part of me, a more complete part of me, after these dozen or so days, realizes how pathetic you are. I cannot love you, at best, I will pity you.” This beautiful woman, where did this beautiful woman of twelve days ago run away to? “You are surprising me, my angel. That’s right, even in such unrequited times I will still acknowledge who you are- an angel. I am truly in shock, but I began having my suspicions as I noticed my umbrella laying alone on the ground. The magnitude of your lack of compassion ruins me, my beauty. Before we met, oh I will never forget that, I was nothing but a body, I was disgusted when another man would accuse me of being alive. Yes, that is true, I began questioning all basic principles. Began questioning, and deconstructing the basic understandings in society; love, God, brotherhood; ‘How true are those concepts?’ I asked myself. Yes that’s right, prior to encountering your radiance I referred to God as merely a basic concept. How will He forgive me? You said, at best you will pity me, at worst what will you deem of me?” I was entering delirium at this point. Who, that is not evil, will blame me? “At worst, Leon, and if I am being honest with you, this is more likely, the worst is that I will think nothing. I will forget your existence. You will be a small, ripped, dead leaf and the wind will blow and you will blow with it, with complete lack of direction. If I remember you at all, Leon, it will be solely to remind myself of the existence of such ugly human beings. The more probable outcome, Leon, is that you will turn into nothing more than an ordinary pedestrian just a few steps after we begin to walk away from each other. That is the least I could give you, Leon, and that is all you deserve, plainly nothing at all.” The tears were flooding down my eyes now, my poor eyes were working hard to push out such an amount of tears. Despite my state as she was lacerating my soul, I began to accept the situation, at least slightly.