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Loving angst

Downstairs I laugh, I sport and jest with all;
But in my solitary room above
I turn my face in silence to the wall;
My heart is breaking for a little love.

I feel no spring, while spring is well-nigh blown,
I find no nest, while nests are in the grove:
Woe's me for mine own heart that dwells alone,
My heart that breaketh for a little love.

L.E.L., Christina Rossetti

I have always loved angst, the brokenhearted, songs that sing about the abandoning lover with despair, spirit or whatever. I know Elton John feels the same way since I have heard "Sad Songs Say So Much." You can keep your Celine Dion. Give me darkly beautiful passion, betrayal, despair.

I love this (excerpted) poem by Christina Rossetti. If I could scrape together the negative feelings I sometimes have and make something like that out of them I would be redeemed forever.

"My heart is breaking for a little love," I have been dramatizing it whilst counting out my filters, taking kettle temps. "You make me feel like my father never loved me. You make me feel like the act of love is empty." (Darren Hayes) While writing up my reports. While making copies.

"Le fleur du mal. Un amour fatale." (Sarah Brightman) I could go on and on. I love the sad songs so much.

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