Love.

A word that is used all too easily.

“I love chocolate!”

“I love those shoes!”

“I’m like so in love with Brad Pitt!”

And then, the infamous ...

“I love you.”

Everything in this world revolves around love and the lack of it; Songs, books, poems, blogs, essays, movies. But who’s to say what love is? And if you’re in it? Is it movie producers who come out with blockbusters like “The Notebook”? They plagiarize love. It’s made out to be this fuzzy feeling that makes the whole world stop and stand still. But is that what it really is? Or is that love only found in the media?

How easily can you fall in it? How easily can you fall out? I’ve known so many people who’ve gone through so much heartache over love. They’ve literally been sick to their stomachs over it. And how do you know you’ve found “The One”? Is there really one person for everyone? You marry someone based on geographical location, not on fate or destiny.

I promise, I’m not a bitter person in life - just in love. It’s the only thing I’ve wanted since I was a kid. When you’re little, the need to find that ‘special someone’ is drilled into your head. All those goddamned Disney movies where the princess finds her prince charming. They make it seem so easy, so normal to find love. And in what? A matter of minutes. Like when you see the person you just know they’re ‘the one’. I hate it. Because look at me now, a bitter person who believes that I’ll never find anyone because my encounters with opposite sex have definitely not been as pleasant as Cinderella or Jasmines.

I was just about to type that men are evil, but I decided not to. The opposite sex is evil. Because woman are just as bad, if not worse, than men. I know that there are an elite few who are nice guys. But I tend to attract psychos, ones that don’t know I exist, ones that are taken, or complete and utter asshole cunts.

My most recent activity with the male species, is a married man. He’s unhappy, but his religion doesn’t believe in divorcing. Which sucks for the both of us. Because I believe I could be happy with him for the rest of my life. We are so much alike it’s scary, but it works for our benefit. I think I might be able to find out what this ‘love’ thing is with him, but even if I do, it will never work. Because he says he could never leave her. Where the FUCK does that leave me the rest of my life? His fucking mistress forever? But - I’m just so elated to have SOMEONE that I’m putting myself through this goddamned torturous escapade.

Self-inflicted. And not fair. Love, whatever it is, is a fucking horrible entity that crushes dreams and causes tears. And it makes me sick.