Download video: Rose talks dirty :3
Channel: Berta Lovejoy
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I learned what tedium is because of this video. Watching and clipping hours of footage, rewatching and judging what is important and what should be cut out. Really boring.
To be attracted to an individual based solely on their aesthetic is to deny their individuality and to a lesser extent, their humanity. It is to objectify a human individual. Truly, I am the privileged cis scum.
I wouldn't care a damn were she less than immaculate. But it is what it is.
Stupid. Utterly stupid. It's but mere infatuation for an internet girl, a person who might as well not exist for me. I am an individual, with my own problems; so is she. Is it wrong to appreciate her beauty even if it's the most hollow thing in the world? Beauty. The eternal aesthetic. I long for the day we can escape our genetic shackles, maybe with synthetic bodies or consciousness uploading. Doesn't exist yet and may never exist. After all, we are the collective results of many billions of orgasms; each one ensuring the existence of the next. It's hard to beat habit; habit that has been ingrained in each living entity since life even was. Chemical impulse, compulsory instinct. Reflection is a relatively new development.
Love to me is appreciating the very existence of an individual; an individual is the sum of their experiences and beliefs. To love an individual. To accept and indulge oneself in. To talk to and respect. My truest physical love is platonic love as contradictory, nonsensical and untruthful as that may be. To be transhuman is to be truly human. Yet I find myself almost desperately attracted to this pale figure on the internet.
And I wonder how many countless, brilliant individuals I have considered to be phantoms because of my biological imperative. Perhaps beauty is righteousness. Perhaps plastic surgery is the path to true equality, thus true humanity; to be one and the same and impartial to all physical individuals.
One day we will distill the purest essence of the individual, the ghost, from the shackles of the shell. One can dream...