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My turn to write, I suppose...
My life begins and ends with her. Really, it's the only way I work. I've tried the being alone thing, I've tried the casual sleeping around thing...none of it worked. None of it...saddening really, when your whole world revolves around Her. Yes, Her, capital "H", as in...well, nothing really to compare the abstract thought of Her. Perhaps I could go on about feminity as a whole, devoting myself to that, but it's women as a whole. No...my preoccupation with Her is just that...Her. She is what matters. It's always a differant Her, always changing, never the same thing twice. Her's are eyes that shift from the darkest browns to the most crystaline blues, hair that fades from a rusty copper to a wheat-esque blonde, and everything in between. She, Her...the very idea of a Her that exists outside the mortal realm of definition. That is who She is. Beyond anything resembling description. She just is. And...I love her.
-- Zero_6ix (Zero_6ix@hotmail.com), August 28, 2002
Ooo, that's a good one Zero.
-- Angel (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 28, 2002.