Love

Love is sneaky. It is evil and benevolent. It will tear you to pieces until you deafen the world with your screams, but it’s the only thing that can put you back together. Love is metamorphic. In the blink of an eye you will find yourself wishing death on someone you once swore you couldn’t live without. Love is corruption. Say goodbye to the innocence of your heart when you fall in love. Say goodbye to a corner of yourself whenever you place someone above you. Love will kill you. Some people die for love, some die for lack of love, and some die a little bit each time the world fails to give back what they give it. Be prepared to hate love. Be prepared to get confused, to change your religion seven times, to shatter your soul and throw your heart in a hearse, to open up your body to the rape of hate and, with your eyes burned and toenails blackened, with tears down your arms and dried clumps of blood in your hair, be prepared to pick yourself up and inch forward with that small glimmer of hope haunting the backs of your eyelids.

Love is loved. People claim to hate it, but their screams are only calls for attention. Without love, life would be boring. It would be meaningless. Love may reduce us to a sobbing, snotty mess, but we’ve been taught that the victory is worth the sacrifice. And as we sacrifice a little more of ourselves each day in vain, we learn what love is not.