Two entries. One night. Color me fecund.

I have the urge to write. And I like to give in to my urges at will.

Usually. Given there's no enforceable laws against them and nothing gets chafed in the process.

However, there's more to this than just my sudden urge to engage in a little literary spewing ... the impetus behind this entry is that I so totally disliked the season finale (and series ender) of Buffy.

Actually, there's even more to it than that.

I'll save you my critique of the finale of a show you've probably never watched. And characters you really could care less about.

The important part - that got me thinking - is that the show is built around metaphors. Even though it's a show about a girl who kills vampires - the real soul of the show is about real life.

Our fears. Our wants. Our desires. Our courage. And our mistakes.

My favorite character is Spike. Spike is a vampire (now with a soul) who, although he began the series as the heroine's arch rival, slowly twisted and turned on his journey to become her lover and, ultimately, I think, her soulmate. However, that's a matter of opinion. Namely, my opinion.

But the reason why I like this character is because he's rough and soft at the same time. Full of ego and self doubt simultaneously. So perfectly human yet almost iconic in his certain moments.

He reminds me of me. And everyone else on this planet. We all have our glimpses of greatness and weakness. When, much to our surprise, we rise above ourselves or fall much harder (or longer) than we ever thought we would.

But what has always gotten to me about Spike is that, no matter if he's good or evil, it's always all about love.

Strip away everything else - the root of all his actions - at its core is love. Or his idea of love.

There's something incredibly romantic about that.

So, forget about the show. Although, it is a damn good show. What's relevant is what Spike stands for. He symbolizes the pain we feel when we aren't loved back. But courage to love anyway. To love someone so completely that it transcends love and almost becomes something spiritual ... the love that is fufilled without anything in return.

Come to think of it that sounds an awful lot like obsession. There's a fine line here. I don't want you to think I find it romantic if some strange guy (or girl) chooses me as the object of their unrequited desire and starts sending me love letters written in their own blood.

That's not love. That's just creepy.

And damn unsanitary.

What I'm talking about is the kind of love that allows you to set someone free. To walk away even though it hurts more than anything because you know it's the better thing to do. When, if given the choice between your happiness or their welfare, you'd always choose them. Despite the consequences.

Love is a hard emotion. It can build you up and tear you down instantly. It's one of the greatest feelings you'll ever feel but often it's accompanied by the biggest price you'll ever have to pay.

Spike and I have learned that lesson the hard way.

But, in all honestly, love is always worth it. Always.

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