Oscar Wilde Knows More About My Life Than I Do.

Why did you make us thus?
Why does this body crave
pleasure to such a painful limit?
We seduce ourselves by what
you made us desire.


— Oscar Wilde


I ask myself this, perhaps not this eloquently, day to day as I fumble for my way along whatever path it is that I seem to be on. It is a path that has so many forks in the road that the forks have forks; I seem to be eternally confused and in my confusion I give in to my body's cravings and desires, hoping that they might sate the eternal throb of loss - the knowledge that something is missing, that I am not able to travel down each and every fork in each and every road, and so in that knowledge I visualize all that I have not accomplished, all that I've lost, all that I've yet to realize.

And so, I desire. I desire it all.

This rather morbid and somber interlude was brought to you by our elusive writer, Billychic, who has just returned from vacation - one that made her do a lot of thinking...drinking...and imbibing of said pleasures that Mr. Wilde may or may not have been referring to...and not enough writing. I quoted this bit once about two and a half years ago but it really seems most poignant for me now.