But where was God now, with heaven full of astronauts, and the Lord overthrown? I miss God. I miss the company of someone utterly loyal. I still don't think of God as my betrayer. The servants of God, yes, but servants by their very nature betray. I miss God who was my friend. I don't even know if God exists, but I do know that if God is your emotional role model, very few human relationships will match up to it. I have an idea that one day it might be possible, I thought once it had become possible, and that glimpse has set me wandering, trying to find the balance between earth and sky. If the servants hadn't rushed in and parted us, I might have been disappointed, might have snatched off the white samite to find a bowl of soup. As it is, I can't settle, I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and know that love is as strong as death, and be on my side for ever and ever. I want someone who will destroy and be destroyed by me. There are many forms of love and affection, some people can spend their whole lives together without knowing each other's names. Naming is a difficult and time-consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name. Romantic love has been diluted into paperback form and has sold thousands and millions of copies. Somewhere it is still in the original, written on tablets of stone. I would cross seas and suffer sunstroke and give away all I have...
The unknownness of my needs frightens me. I do not know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they are not being met. If you want to find out the circumference of an oil drop, you can use lycopodium powder. That's what I'll find. A tub of lycopodium powder, and I will sprinkle it on to my needs and find out how large they are. Then when I meet someone I can write up the experiment and show them what they have to take on. Except they might have a growth rate I can't measure, or they might mutate, or even disappear. One thing I am certain of, I do not want to be betrayed, but that's quite hard to say, casually, at the beginning of a relationship. It's not a word people use very often, which confuses me, because there are different kinds of infidelity, but betrayal is betrayal wherever you find it. By betrayal, I mean promising to be on your side, then being on somebody else's.
-An extract from Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson.
It is because I love you- a pure and genuine love, as pure and genuine as what I conceive it to be and as what I am able to give. It is because I want to help you. It is because I am trying to protect you. It is because I need you. Not this way. Not this way. But underneath my fingernails, and beneath my bones. There is a door in my heart that pretends to be close but is really open, open, open. Perhaps you might hold the key, the key I put into your hands while you were sleeping, the one that cannot be felt or seen. Perhaps you lost it. Perhaps you might find it.
It is because we both want to be understood, we both want to be reached, by each other, but not this way, not this way. And so we try to build something that we know we will destroy- a mental picture, a lovely illusion, a secret diary of the voices in our heads, that is everything and nothing, that will be remembered and forgotten (such paradox, such ambivalance) in shreds. All softly swiftly accomplished with a rise of our eyelashes.
The world is hungry for affections. But nobody wants to be the first to give. Mouths, round little perfect circles, ah ah ah, wide open. Waiting. Just waiting.
When it becomes so easy to fall into the darkness, you know it must be a trick.