CRIME

Did he ever think of a particular crime when he, one Fyodor Dostoevsky, set about shocking the world with his master piece? does it ever strike you that the book is a perfectly balanced monument not only to his genius, but also to the perfect chaos and interoperable contradictions in human soul?

This has been on my mind for a while.  Of crime.  Of what it is to commit one in the first place.  Of the definition of the same.  Of what is it, and the source of it; all of the above being completely interchangeable.  A crime, by any other name, is, well let's hold back for a moment; the more one looks into either or both, the more blurred the boundaries become.

Unlike all my earlier postings, I find myself overwhelmed with a ton of emotions to the point of inability to write.  I keep having flashbacks to some days, and things, and words that were said and tears that fell and smiles that shied away and the whole nine yards.  Far too many of them to be able to keep a clear stream of thought or consciousness to put what I have to say into words, and make it make sense.  It is the trait of lateral thinking taking its toll to extremes, to the point of utter flatness and destruction.

Where is the crime in loving? I would submit that this is a massive crime - against one's self for instance;  where is the crime in wanting to pursue that love once one stumbled upon it? to pursue it against all odds, against all others, and for one particular and for no other? is it society that is doing this to us, or is it us that are doing this to ourselves, or is it simply a foolish act that, despite whatever we may do, will forever be a burden?

And that burden, my one is the point .. for it is the one crime which I will commit over, and over, and over again add infinitum, against every odd there is, even the odd of you totally losing interest for the sake of one other; of my fear of knowing I have fallen in love with you the day we uttered a word on the phone;

And that, my one, I will hold dear to beyond the grave;  and that, my one is ..

Punishment

QED.

Never have I felt this empty in my life.  Never, in my lowest moments, in my hardest moments, at the time I lost a dear, dear loved one and buried him with my own two hands.  Never .. and I will grieve you forever .. and nothing you can say or do can ever make it better or make me change.

QED.