"Reasons To Hate Love"

June 07th, 2013; tumblr; AFG

I originally wrote something akin to the “10 Things I Hate About You” film. There were 11 things of course because I couldn’t find it within me to blatantly take it to that most sincerest form of flattery. After actually looking up the “ten” I realized how much of an idiot I was and decided to do what I do best. The thought of curling up into the fetal position and crying like a newborn just didn’t seem like the most effective use of my time though. So, I decided to write. Something I’m not terribly good at but get by well enough to garner a follower or two. I haven’t had a chance for one of these heart-on-sleeve updates in a while. Feels like riding a bike. Except not in the slightest bit as I’m not riding anything and this isn’t an amalgam of warped metal, plastic, and sweatshop worker effort.

Time to start a new paragraph after something like that. You see, the point is that I’m not me anymore. I’m something else. Something more even. I feel something for once. Besides the rage and sorrow anyway. It has replaced the gaping void that once seemed to consume me. The hole left by a lifetime of suffering and poor coping mechanisms. Yeah, probably mostly just the latter. Either way, it’s all seemingly just water under the bridge. But not like that Red Hot Chili Peppers song. This isn’t about drugs though I suppose it could be likened to one. You see, I found something. Lie. Something found me. Lie. Someone found me. And that’s how the story began.

I’ve done plenty of stupid things in my life. Plenty of terrible. Plenty of, well, okay, yeah, I probably shouldn’t even mention some of them; they’re so bad. I’ve plenty of regrets for sure. Probably packing on plenty more even as I speak but there’s one thing I could never regret. I love her. Without doubt, with unwavering certainty. I love her and would do anything I could for her happiness. And that’s how the story continues.

I don’t know how it’ll end. I honestly don’t believe it ever could. I guess I’m an idealist. Been called an optimist, been called a pessimist but really, I could care less about cups or what’s half whatever. It’s simple. Always has been. Always will be. Even in the dark. Even in the pitch black. Live or die. Only this time, no holding back. This time, unlike every bit of my life up to now, I won’t hold back. She’s far too important.