I grew up reading and the believing the literary giants of the Romantic Era, even though all around me the world was proving the opposite. I believed in this magical emotion between individuals. I refused to put faith into anything that spoke to the contrary. I was enchanted and consumed by their beautiful words, the promise of emotional intoxication, and the desire to walk in this wonderful world of blissful physical touch. So, I donned this fantastical mantle and wandered the ravaged streets of emotion looking for this Beacon of Hope. I watched houses burn, cities crumble, and worlds collapse. Darkness prevailed. Only ashes and rubble remained of this alleged majestic hearth of happiness. They had lied.
Love is a mental aberration. A lie. To yourself and to another. A projection of needed affirmation. An outside source of comfort that one cannot find within oneself.
Love is the antithesis to truth. It is a shadow in which lies and deceit cower. A void that envelopes purity and reason. A path to pain and madness.
Love is a lie. A poison. A graveyard for passion. An elixir of death.
All of this is true when love is one sided. I'm off to put roses on the headstone.
