Olivia

Olivia, Honey, Dear,

Tonight's transmission won't be poetic, eloquent, sparkling, scintillating, or good in any regards. I'm writing purely because I told myself I wouldn't succumb to the desire to tell you that I'm falling asleep after one of the most strenuous days, all I can think about is you. Things feel adrift. As though habits of our universe simply suspended, leaving me, a stranger in a strange world. As a means of seeing the world, love was always my choice. It still is, of course. I just love you so greatly. I love you in the way that our famous love "fetishes" could only dream to.

Perhaps, I ought to explain myself. After all, when using such a charged word, one must digress to a point one can understand. Anyhow, Zizek speaks often of a phenomena known as the "fetishests split". The idea is that our fetish, as it were, is something which allows us to face a cold and daunting reality. He uses the example of a man who loses his wife to cancer. He speaks of the most traumatric moments of her death with ease, so long as he is stroking her pet hampster. When the pet hampster dies, the man becomes suicidal. Furthermore, you are what allows me to see and comprehend a world that without you is so utterly disenchanting.

I've been awake for 14 hours, with 6 hours of sleep prior to that. I'm so so so tired. I wish I could be like a tumbleweed, much like Spike. I love Spike. I love you. I'm tired. I have no clue what I'm saying. I feel high.