Of all the lies and fabrications of this world, all the conspiracies and grand illusions, love is by far the biggest, most cunning, ruthless one.
I used to believe in love. I believed in love when I didn’t believe in anything else. I guess I still do believe in love – I believe love is a disease, a sickness, a plague upon humanity.
I believe love is a lie.
What other species believes in love? Many animals give birth and then let their young scavenge and survive on their own. Hell some parents eat their own young! And mating… animals mate to reproduce. Some animals die in the act of reproduction. Animals don’t stay together to raise the children. Animals get together, get it on, and get away.
You know what I really used to believe in? Santa Claus. I used to believe in the magic of Christmas – and I guess I still do. Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. I really genuinely feel magic in those late December evenings. Sitting in quiet and stillness, looking at the glow and shimmer of a Christmas tree… there is something about it that touches my soul and stirs my deepest heartstrings.
Santa. He brings you presents if you are good. Santa is used as a means of getting children to behave during the year. “You better be good, Santa’s watching.” But you know what? Santa never failed. No matter how bad I was or whatever transgressions took place leading up to December 25th, the big guy always delivered. You could always trust that Santa would leave you something.
Love leaves you empty. And hurt. And dead.
A wise man recently told me what the destination was in life is a journey, not a destination. The destination is death. We are all going to the same place. We all will arrive at that destination.
I used to think love was the journey. Love was what gave life meaning and substance and value. Love made life worth living – love was greater than the pain of life. I like that image, love being the constant good force in this fucked up world.
Now I know that love is not greater than pain; love is the biggest manufacturer and supplier of pain.
Think about it. Everyone you love will leave you. Every-freaking-one. They will die, or you’ll die first. Or maybe they will just plain old leave you. Regardless, love ends.
That’s what gets me. If love is real, how could it fail? If love is supposed to be the greatest, how can it dissolve? I know chemistry; I can break things down into compounds and molecules and even elements. But love, love shouldn’t be able to be broken down or explained. Love should just be – it should exist in its awesome form and accepted as truth, the only motherfucking truth in this motherfucking world. Except that love does not exist.
What is love? Is it “an intense feeling of deep affection”? That’s about as bullshit a definition as possible, thanks dictionary. Hell I have intense feelings for some of my poops. Deep affection? I have deep affection for my lawn after I mow it.
I used to love CrossFit. That love started this blog. I still CrossFit, and I enjoy it very much, but I wouldn’t say I love it. And this poor blog has been severely neglected lately. Much like my heart.
I truly, emphatically believed in love and its power to conquer all. I believed that shit down in the fibers of my being. But now I know all love is is an illusion, a poison of the mind and soul, a falsity that corrupts even the strongest and noblest of people.
If love was real, then couples wouldn’t separate. If love was real, someone wouldn’t be running away or sleeping with someone else instead of you. If love was real then you’d get a goddam good morning text or a smiley emoji for no reason other than the person was thinking about you. Someone that loves you would actually talk to you. If love was real then soul mates would be together.
But love isn’t real. The pain caused by the illusion of love is real. And of course no matter what, when people die, love or not that absence will hurt. We will mourn them. We will miss them. But that doesn’t prove love.
Want to prove love to me? Show me the TRUTH from one of my favorite movies, The Mexican. Show me the answer to when two people REALLY love each other, but they just can’t get it together, when do they get to the point where enough is enough. Show me that the answer to that is NEVER!
Because that is the right answer. If two people love each other… they NEVER give up on each other. They do what they have to, even if that means sacrifice their personal (temporary) happiness for the good of the other – for the good of the relationship. They don’t go off and find other people to be with or try to convince themselves they don’t love you. If two people love each other, they never give up.
But that’s only if love existed. Which it doesn’t.
And for this one time, I hope I’m wrong. I hope that love does exist. But for now, I’ve lost my faith.
What’s left? Hope? Hope is just a foolish man’s folly, a way of trying to glimpse that light at the end of the tunnel only to find that it’s a freight train barreling down upon you.
I could scream at the top of my lungs why don’t you love me?!?!?!? but now I know.
Love is not patient. Love is not kind. Love is a dull knife that mercilessly slashes and tears, spilling blood and emptying all that is wholesome inside. Love fucking fails.
I’d rather believe in Santa Claus. At least he brings me presents.
Your turn -> Make me believe in love again.