Lust or Love?

I think the Obscure Object might still be a royal asshat/fuck weasel. But I really can’t help but stare at him — pretty much constantly. I know that everyone hates him, and that even I “hate” him, but I really can’t help it. It’s like seeing that slice of cake that you know has been dropped on the floor, but some sick perverse part of you wants to eat it anyway. ‘Who cares if it’s been beat up, a little bit?’ You reason erroneously. But in the end, it’s all the eyes on you that cause you to say, “Ewww. Throw that away.”

Poor analogy, but I can’t really think of a better one that doesn’t involve food, or sexually suggestive metaphors. Perhaps it’s all just lust, and nothing much more than lust. Which would explain the food metaphor. I want to eat him? Not really, he’d probably taste badly, he’s so bitter and full of bile. Lust is a royal pain in the ass. It makes me do things I’d never do normally. Such as, stare at the class fuck weasel as if I want to make out with him at a spur of the moment.