The Chosen One

4 years ago when I first came across her I could have never foreseen how intricately my everyday discussions would be tied to her. If I'm amenable to a change of mind, then certainly she has been a compelling impetus to set my priorities. To me, she's an amazing powerhouse of abilities that common beings can only aspire to attain. With my stubborn expectations always in over-drive, I feel that the only woman I shall ever want, really want, would have to be a flesh and blood replica of her character. My crazy obsession with everything Syd precedes my reputation as a Potter fan, and it is not wrongly suspected that I’d prefer martial-arts trained fox to a marital-arts maestro!
From the moment she bursts on to the screen, wielding a new disguise every other occasion, every other vital thought oozes out of my mind, I am deaf to all other sounds (a point of major consternation to my mum) – yes! I’m completely enraptured.
Adolescence is responsible for the onslaught of a zillion crushes -yeah, been there done that- but I discovered her just as that spring faded into summery adulthood, and I have looked up to her as the-one-person with a will of steel, and an irrepressible urge to do the right thing. Sure, they make it look easy on television, but it’s really out of my league to discuss the emotional depths of a person leading a double life. All of us need a hero to revere, and to feel unnaturally connected to, I can visualize her resolve any tangle and therein lies my faith- I know I can-do-it, will-have-to, because somewhere inside me there is a notion, that I’m just as potent as the chosen one.
She’s an enigmatic beauty; her smiles embody all the happiness she creates.
Now Alias is gone, and I’m unsure how I’ll gratify my yearning, no other woman fits the bill, I know a lot of regular people, but there’s only one Sydney Bristow.

Spaghetti

This is the third time I've begun this post, and every time I find my wrting skills inadequate to precisely express my feeling.
Eventually I get jumbled up in words and can't connect back to the main topic, or else it seems like a long-drawn dramatic salutation.
Help me!

Of My Own Volitions

I don't take insults well. My face exhibits a deathly pallor and cheeks feel puffy, every second feels like it has slowed down by a massive degree, so that I can meticulously examine the expressions on my victim's face. In my mind he/she is the victim. While taking in all that soot offered to me I can savour impending reprisal and just plead with myself to wait.....
I have just realised that I fall into the category of those irritating people who have horrible 'taste' - apparently in everything. My preferences in movies, music, tv and women have always accosted severe criticisms. Forgive me if I take these personally, but this is who I am. What I like, what I hear and whatsoever I see significantly sculpts my psyche, and if standing next to me, you can dismiss my picks as repugnant, how am I to convince myself that you don't carry the same notions about me?
I swear that I shall never say "You look fat in that dress."; it hurts mate! My rant, however, is not against those who do, but against those who go "You look bloated in that attire!"
There is a vast difference in being honest and being needlessly vicious. People should learn to disagree gently. BUT, testosterone is beheld as elixir to succeed nowadays, so all common politeness goes into the dustbin, or better still, spat upon companions. And nobility is stupidity.
Next time anybody goes for the jugular, I'm walking away.