This is the title of a song, by a band I very much enjoy. The song itself is little more than an interlude, a continual repetition of a three-chord riff, nothing very special (this is not to say the song is not good, or not a work of genius). The title itself though, what a slight variation of a commonly uttered phrase, and yet somehow it makes things clear for me. When we hear it said that "survival of the fittest" is an accurate means of describing how things live, reproduce, etc, it brings up a certain picture which isn't entirely accurate, on closer examination. But to say "survival is the fittest", this is essentially to say, that it is not about the strongest, or the finest specimens. It is about the last one that is twitching, the last one that is scraping forward through all of it, when every reasonable instinct tells them to stop, only to be overridden by a burning desire to persist through the violence, and this desire is a depiction of complete passion and drive. And such a demonstration of drive excites me. I think this is a big aspect as to why I am stimulated by what I am, sexually speaking. I was previously unaware of this until several days ago. Somehow it feels good to uncover this about myself, even though I try to suppress my urges, whether in regards to fantasy or reality. But to learn more about your behaviors, even the bad ones, perhaps it can help in some ways, or perhaps it can enable me to better control them. I have heard it said that one must understand their own thoughts before they can control them. It seems quite futile, given the absurd complexity of our species. But if this is true, then every little bit of self discovery helps. Always think about what drives you.

As for the image I attached, I believe it was ripped from deviantart. I decided to do this because I have been told that fighting/confronting things head on can be a means of solving inner turmoil, or at least relasing it. So, this is part of me. A slimy, disgusting, and miserable part of who I am. This is what I find erotic, and what I yearn for. It is my dawn, my hope and my truth, my life - my want, my euphoria and my joy, my love and my spirituality. Since I can remember I've been fascinated with such imagery of blood and violence intermingling with beauty/peace. At some point during puberty it turned into lust - but even lust itself feels so weak a word to describe what I actually feel when I look at something like this. I feel whole, complete, and like I have stepped outside of some boundary which has been keeping me from feeling the true extent of human existence, one I hadn't even felt before. This is why I have ascribed all of the feelings I have to such imagery, here in my writing. Yet, from the standpoint of survival, this should not be attractive to me. I don't understand how things can get this twisted. Do any of us understand our sexual desires? Or do we just feel them? I don't know. I don't know that I'll ever know. I tend to think it's the latter, that we only feel them. We can describe what it is that we like about what we see and touch and hear and smell, but this is all only subjective. I can understand WHAT stimulates me, and to some extent I can describe why it does, but HOW it got to where these things stimulate me in the first place, this is a profound mystery. It actually does feel good to get all of this down. What comes in the future, we will see.