I open my eyes. Damn. Still here. The crying echoes up from below. It's like I'm twelve again, trapped in this small cell as my own space for solitude. But it's not solitude I crave. I want joy and laughter. I want friendship and chaos, passion and love. Of all things love. Sorry Auntie, I don't need a psychic to tell me what I am searching for or what my reason for life is, my path. I'm just like everyone else, seeking the other half of me. To feel complete. I wonder, will I find them in this lifetime? Will I have to wait, wandering through this life with an endless feeling of loneliness? It nearly hurts to think on this. Not that I don't have options, my pick of the litter in a sense. Just that he wouldn't be the right one. I would get bored, looking into other waters. Someone new to entertain my curious mind. I try not to do this. I love generously, fiercely even. But then, something happens. It floats away, or I wake the fuck up. My whole life I have been searching for this perfect existence with bittersweet moments and lots of laughter. And love. Authentic love. The last time it was disappearing, I told myself it was because, this idea of authentic, true love does not exist. It is a mere chemical reaction in the brain. And yet, time has passed. I am back again to the old hopes and dreams that he is still out there. Foolish, I know. Oh well, I tell myself. I guess it's time to get out of bed, go downstairs, and go back to the sitcom that is my current living situation, and keep searching.

-The Drunken Banana-