Albert Camus

I love this man, I want him to be my bitch. I want to spend hours with him in the middle of the night, and he will tell me that life is pointless and I should embrace the absurd. I'll say I already have, and that I know the pointlessness of life but I love it so much anyway and I know he does too. He will tell me that of course he loves it, seeing dirty snow or getting up only to eat my two frozen waffles every day is worth all the pain and absurdidty of life. He would tell me I can never accomplish my goals and I'll say of course I know, but I'm going to try anyway. He would approve and maybe even say that we are on the same page. And he's right, we are. I would ask him why he cheated on his wife and if he had any idea how much pain he probably caused her. We would go outside and he would tell me that it doesn't matter, I would disagree. I will never forgive him for it. I would ask him if his children loved him, and what he did with his nobel prize money. I would say that I love him even though he is not as logical as most people I love. We would drink rasberry lemonade together and then he would tell me that Mersault was not lying to himself, and maybe the man in the phone booth wasn't saying anything at all since we couldn't hear him. I would tell him not to smoke becuase it causes cancer, and then I would finally get the guts to ask him if he ever felt awkward around Sartre because of his lazy eye. How could you not stare at it?