So much for avoiding Hearsay like the plague. Oh well, again, and it's always been about choosing the lesser of two evils.
I should sleep but - on another note. Mag asked me if the emo-ness displayed a few entries back was due to the fact that it's currently the Semester 1 exam period and I said 'no' because the emo-ness is more a monthly thing which is mostly brought about by PMS. And it's true to a significant extent but I was looking at the entries from this period last year and I can't say that I wasn't affected at least slightly. Maybe slightly more than slightly. I can't decide.
Does it matter, though? I don't know, really. I suppose the broader question is - or rather, the broader truth is, nothing really matters at the end of everything. Because at the end of everything, there's nothing left but buried six feet under becoming fertiliser and some would say being part of the Earth but I'm not spiritual like that and neither do I care about Nature so for me, everything stops at becoming fertiliser. So if that's the end result, nothing we do in this life matters, which stands to reason that nothing that happened last year that stopped happening sooner than I would have liked matters. Therefore, it follows in a logical progression that thinking about it, being affected by it, all of this is pointless because it doesn't matter.
I hope that's logical enough for you. Because it's logical enough for me, and it's not logical enough for me. The probative value of the logic does not outweigh the prejudicial effect that not admitting the said logic would have on one one's emotional well-being. It should outweigh, but it doesn't, because we're not all machines and robots and how do you switch something off, just like that, click and then it's gone? Snap and then it's over? I didn't get it before, I still don't get it now. I don't think I would ever get it. I am not built this way and I can't decide if I wish I were more calculating, more logical, better at compartmentalising, and less susceptible to long periods of emotional devastation that doesn't end, but leaves residual scars as if I need these battles wounds. Because I don't, and nobody does. Nobody wants to be this way.
In some sense, I think I feel like I've lost all concept of genuine happiness, and love. Especially love. I feel like what I understood it to mean has been completely and irrevocably subverted, and I feel like I can't ever feel that elusive and illusory emotion or whatever it really is ever again. In short, I think, in some sense, I feel like I've been irreparably damaged. Whether that is true or not remains to be seen, but as it stands all the king's horses and all the king's men could not put Humpty together again. And all Humpty did was to sit on a stupid wall. Seriously.
And I suppose this, to me, is the fairy tale that Duncan is to Lisbeth in Big Shots. She chose to stop chasing the fairy tale and I chose to stop chasing it, too, a long time ago. It's not about attaining it anymore, possessing it, living it; it's about letting go of it, and letting it stay that way. Forever. Meaning until the day that you die. And being utterly principled in this conviction.
Easier said than done. Like how the courts love formulating broad statements of principles that are easy to state but difficult to apply - what instantly comes to mind is the similar facts rule. Probative value of the similar fact evidence outweighing the prejudicial effect it has on the accused - yeah of course it's agreeable on principle, but in practice, where the hell do you draw the line? How do you weigh these two competing interests and what quantitative values do you attribute them, if any at all? What values and considerations do you use to decide, are you consistent, are you objective, are you biased? Can you apply different standards and shy away from taking a principled stand on the basis that "it must depend on the facts of each case"?
In any case, the facts of this case is clear and unequivocal enough. I don't know why I do this, still, write these entries, as if I care as much as these entries hold me out to care. Because I honestly don't. And I'm better off not caring. Sometimes, when I write things like that, I feel like I'm back to being 14, but at the same time, it's different because now I actually have a basis for saying things like that. And it's rather incontestable, really. I mean, all these fairy tales - what is the point? Reality is entirely different, and it bites, and it is, simply, what it is. Notice how I say I need to find a guy instead of finding a boyfriend, and no, one does not imply the other. Because I have no interest in finding a boyfriend, but every conceivable interest in finding a guy, finding multiple guys. Fun without the commitment because I am not competent to commit and I have no capacity for it. Nemo dat quod non habet. Seriously. I can't imagine ever giving up everything for nothing ever again.
And I do genuinely feel that not everyone truly understands where I'm coming from which is why I'm not interested in talking about any of this. Like, you know, talking face to face. And I think that I only think that I understand where I'm coming from; the truth could be that I have no idea as well. Half the time I go through life not having a clue - why should this be any different? All I have is a vision of what I want myself to be, and perhaps sometimes that vision fools me into believing that I am that person. But maybe I'm not. Maybe I'll carry this to my grave, maybe I won't.
Does it matter, though? To quote Louisa Gradgrind from Hard Times, "What does it matter?" What does it matter if it matters? Nothing but fertiliser at the end of everything.
Evidence in six hours' time. I think I should sleep.