I figure that my immortal soul is in such a state already that it doesn't matter what I do to it now.
At least, that's what I tell myself.
While I contemplate life and death and everything in between, I'm kissing the latest in a long line of girls. She's a catch, all right.
That's one of those things I find funny. Jesus was a fisher of men. I'm a fisher of women. I don't have to think for long about which one I'd rather be.
I never stick with a girl for long. It's the chase I'm interested in. The hunt. Once I've got them, I get bored. Once I've got what I want. It's just the same with this girl. It was with the last, and it will be with the next.
Once upon a time, I fell in love. And look where that landed us. Here.
Not that Earth is such a bad place, to be honest. All things considered. The girls up top wear much longer skirts. I like the fashions down here. Even if most of the girls aren't as beautiful as the angels up top.
I don't look back as I leave the girl. I never do. What's the point? Would it make any difference? I don't think so.
This one pleased me more than some of the others, though, I must admit. She looked like Elisabetta.
I haven't found my next target. It won't take me long, though. I'll have identified her by this time tomorrow. And it never takes me long to get them.
Once I got over the pain, both physical and mental, of leaving heaven, I found I could adapt quite well to life as a fallen. It's easy, really. Sometimes I wish Elisabetta was here to share it with me. Most often I don't. I wonder if I'd have tired of her, eventually?
The romantic side of me says no. The realistic side says yes.
That's me, in a nutshell.