The more I get used to the idea of my never having been in love and of being hopelessly single, the more self-absorbed, self-contained, and colder I become.

It's becoming easier for me to be dismissive, aloof, and slightly more... well... meaner. I relish the thought of this brand of cynicism (when it comes to dating and relations), and I don't know if that's a good thing. Even though it feels right, at this juncture of my life. I feel that if someone is not willing to put in the time to chip away at the ice and get to know me and know the warmth that's at the core, then he isn't worth the Q-tip I use to clean up smudged eyeliner with. I'm worth it. I am worth it. Repeating this mantra and actually living, breathing, and knowing it, is why it makes it so easy for me to reign as the Ice Queen. I'm discovering that being genuine, honest, and up front is no longer en vogue anymore, apparently. There's no reason for me to live down to that mode of behavior, however. I'll stay single and I'll have my fun if I feel so inclined to indulge, if this is the case. Disingenuous personalities continue to thrive, and I'm forced to proceed accordingly, so as to side-step the trend, leaving callous casualties in my path. Men, women want what they desire, at the expense of other people's feelings. They deceive and lie to get it. Why lie? It's unnecessary, as the intended may harbor the same desire. So as to feel, grasp, touch, and be touched. My bosom is where heaven and earth meet at the center. It's a wondrous playground to frolic in... once the ice is melted. HE should be so lucky to enjoy such delights, if HE ever surfaces and acts right. Read between the lines, for it extends far beyond what is visible here in this picture, and is meant as a metaphor.