Cynical Love

Love. A joy and a terror. Why does a person submit themselves voluntarily to such pain? Is love worth the heartache and pain of rejection? No. Love is a fickle thing, full of expectations and high standards. Anyone who has loved and lost will agree, even if never aloud. Many will say that it is better to have loved and lost, then never loved at all. Those people obviously have never had their heart ripped out, torn to itty bitty pieces and stomped upon by the object of their affections. Time and time again I have loved with all my heart. And time and time again, it has been shat upon. I swore to myself that I would never love again. And yet, I find myself foolishly falling in love again.

My friends, my lifeblood, are all that keep me anchored to this life. My family, my home, has long been lost to me due to the whims of love. That is what convinced me that love is an evil thing. And yet, to live is to be evil, probably why we love in the first place. True happiness cannot be found in love and marriage, hell, it can’t even be found in the arms of a lover. Happiness is a myth, a terrible lie told to us by our forefathers, who even now, laugh at us from beyond. There is no happiness, there is no love. But there is hope, sorrow and joy. They are fleeting, but worth the effort whenever you feel them.

My life has been nothing but heartache and pain, don’t I deserve more from whatever cruel force compels the universe to hate me? Apparently not. But this woman, this devilish woman, seems determined to make me see otherwise. Perhaps I’ll indulge her, for a little while at least. What more harm could come of letting her see what she wants to see? I never knew how much I would come to regret that decision in the days to come.