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modern love, musings

Modern Love: The Blue Light

I logon, late, so late, the only light in my room is electric and blue, casting alien shadows over the planes of my face. I am searching. 

Searching for something, for someone. Searching for her.

I click and I scroll, I tap and I type – I hope (really) that the next page, the words imprinted on my screen, the carefully chosen images, will speak a story to me, a coherent one. A real one. That they will whisper and caress my ears; will stir the rapid beating of my heart–

Engage my soul–

But, too often, nearly every single time: nothing. I am left cold, uninspired, at a loss that it can all feel so plain, so disconnected, so formulaic, and so fake. Worthless. My time has been once again given over to an activity that will not result in anything meaningful.

I have sown in fallow, salted ground; I shall reap nothing.

Still, another night comes. (And another and another). I logon. The only light is that electric blue. I am alienated and alien.

I search.

Perhaps one day, I shall find.


About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.


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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

September 2015
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