read with your eyes closed

god, so true, so true. love does not truly exist. its merely our genes wishing to be replicated. its merely the disease that wants to proliferate itself. i hate it how it tricks us into feeling that we truly love someone. i love this poem. its brilliant, it represents everything that i loath about being human.

I’ve always had the philosophy of “there’s no perfect love except a tragic love”. But there are always those times when somebody penetrates the cyncicism and gives you the hope, the inspiration for every love story ever written. And it seems believeable, just as any fairytale did when you were a child. Yet so fragile, because life breaks the most beautiful of things.

But then, on the other hand, I once had a philosophy that nothing can exist that you do not believe in. And for love to exist as enduring truth, one had to believe wholeheartedly in it. In my more optimistic days, the world could be crumbling around me, the concept of love could be all but annihilated and I still believed…

that as long as I believed, it was possible. I saw the reason for everyone else’s failure as a lack of belief. The belief I held, is quite possibly the closest to religion and faith I’ve ever come. My idealistic notions that I once held, that wound up in critical condition under the beating life gave it, have somehow been revived.

You really do need to publish a book xxx