Dec 26, 2015
The Diary of an Arsonist in Love; pt 2
Today I saw a moth commit suicide. To see it with your own eyes is so bloody different from hearing about it, reading about it, writing about it.
What is it with the relentless will to let our obsessions kill us? To actually ram headlong into them till we cannot take the collision anymore, and crumble, folding in on ourselves and relishing in that momentary union after which we are but breaths of ash?
Today I saw a moth commit suicide and I know why you love me.
Today I saw a moth commit suicide, and I'm telling you about it so you know where this is going. There is no consummation here that will end well; there is nothing after that consummation, just the memory of its brilliance while it lasted.
