Something struck me today. I think I've never been in love before, at least not really. As certain truths come to light, they illuminate the darkness of the past and reveal details which were burried deep inside my subconscious. I never actually loved, it was all an illusion I created for myself, for the people around me. And that realisation breaks me to bits. It destroys everything I once held dear. All the memories of heartache and lust seem so irrelevant. Every moment I thought had a profound impact on me, suddenly seems like just another test I was supposed to pass in order to get here. Some of my parts are screaming in contempt, while others are cheering what I'm about to do. A struggle I know well and dear. A battle I know I can never win. A war, which cannot be fought. I close my eyes and make a wish, for there is nothing else to do.
The book of love is long and boring,
but I love it when you read to me,
and you can read me anything.
The book of love has music in it,
and I love it when you sing to me,
and you can sing me anything.
It's full of flowers and heart shapped boxes,
and things we're all too young to know.
I love it when you give me things,
and you ought to give me wedding rings.
