heartless love.

She, with her dark, yet not inappropriate, wittiness, her eyes mostly lifeless, depression sucking slowly the light of her hitherto bright, innocent halo. She, who despite having plainly shown her despise for the subject, could not have put it in better terms than the epitome of love itself. There was something about her, about this change almost impossible, extremely unpredictable, that lent to it, to her, an most amazing edge of wonder and magic. There was so much one could say about love without making it hideous, a despicable disease, and yet the best description of such strong, complex feeling came from none other but the least fateful in it. 1/07/09 00:16

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