it may sound really simple and obvious, but i am bowled over by the effect that love has on people these days. i spy three victims of loveflux:
the cactus: she's without any love of any kind, but not because it hasn't been offered. she's fresh and green and inviting from afar, but when you get close, you see those spines glistening with venom. her life has become pretty arid -- i think we're all sick of getting stuck so many times.
prometheus: how many years is he going to spend strapped to that effing rock, entrails ripped to shreds by that evil eagle? friends keep trying to set him free, but there he stays, inviting the pain and humiliation all for the promise of false love and masochistic repentance for just doing it all wrong when the going was good.
schmoopy: formerly of the spiny succulent variety, after dragging her heels and bitching and moaning, bears her sweet juicy side to someone who's just so good to her. she's sweet and sappy and happy and fun. stubbly doubt keeps coming back -- fear of rejection, fear of heartbreak, fear of the unknown -- and she requires a little pruning and reassurance. love has made her look at her bad habits in a can-do light. on the whole, schmoopy is love's finest accomplishment: a venomous, negative entity turned bubbly and optimistic.
to quote when harry met sally, tell me i never have to be out there again.
"...this stupid, wagon wheel, roy rogers, garage sale coffee table!"