From One Who Has Lost Love

Something wrote in a darker state I am in.

 I don't believe in love anymore. Love in the masses, of what people are, will always be true, but love conventionally is merely a myth our own brains construct to help us escape from reality, and waste our lives away on our own weaknesses. Truly, I wish I could construct that within my own brain, but resources are lacking, and my own strength, even more so. For I have lost what I lived, breathed, and consumed, as perfection; merely dismissed as a façade that was wasted and only has valid purpose in memory. Pain erupts in me -- hell, the chance of me 'getting over it,' is of course a likely one, but the truth of it has sent shocks through me. Perfection through imperfection is untrue, love is imperfect, but will never be true. Perhaps if the weak meet the weak, and fate wills them to continue being weak together, truth will set in stone. Strength in love is against love itself; merely based on one mind's desire to continue when the odds are against the pair, but the other desires for the ultimate travesty of removal.

 It's for the best, they will say. Yes, it always is. Pain is for the best, suffering, loss, grief, and selfishness, is always for the best, they will always declare. It will make one grow, those who are not within the loop will declare, from experiences encountered or experienced on their own. But if you give a plant too much water, it will still wilt; if you feed a pet too much, it will become gluttonous; if you put a fire to metal it will inevitably melt; if you recite a story too much, it's message will become ingrained. The story. The story of perfect in two so imperfect, conquering and fighting the struggle of life itself -- no, no, of existence. The story that two can meld into one through this, and compliment the worst in each other, overpower the rotting sensations of distrust, dishonesty, hate, despair, fear, misunderstanding, loneliness and empowering the two with happiness, trust, intimacy, care, and friendship.

 No, I don't believe it. Skepticism was always my strongest virtue, and my greatest enemy. Now, though, I truly embrace the power of its right within my mind. I have been betrayed from two angles; from love and from myself, rather, my own mind. What I hold near and dear matters not -- granted, it will always matter to me. I will always be the unprepared defender, who should have built more bastions and bolsterings to hold the line; desperately wracking in his own agony. I'll look upon the rubble and wonder why my foundation was so weak, but moreover, I will seek what I once had, always. As I hold my miniscule weapon against the reaper of love, all I can utter is the faith I once held so dearly, muttered through stutters and weak voices:

 "I love you," "I care about you," "I need you," "forever and ever." 

 I will force myself to wait, I know I will. I cannot hold back from that even if I willed myself too. For the weakest of the two is held down so low they can see what has fallen, and what truly is needed to not fall again. But the stronger will always be strong, they will see past everything; for I, I am merely below them.

    ~The Once Grand Dictator~