Love is a lie

A guy told me once that there was a perfect person out there somewhere for him: a soulmate.

And I said, you’re probably right. There probably is someone out there who is perfect.

But what would they want to do with the imperfect you.
What makes you think that the person you think would be best for you would have any interest in you. Who the heck are you? You’re some bloody loser sitting at home crying about how you wish you had a soulmate.

Do you think your perfect person, the person you want most in the world is going to want some loser like that? No. No. He/she is with someone who doesn’t give a damn if they’ve got a soulmate or not.

That’s just the way it goes, welcome to earth.

I don’t know how many friends I have that say they’re just so in love with someone.

“I would cross a desert of broken glass on my hands and knees to be with her.”
But then a few months later: “Well that one, yeah I’m done with her.”

There is no love. Can’t you understand that?

Every time you meet two people and they’re convinced that they’re soul mates, they talk about like: “It’s our eternal undying beautiful love that will last for ever and ever until the end of eternity and not even God himself can sever their connection. It’s so powerful and so strong and so potent.”

They’re just lying to themselves. Half the time they don’t even want to be around one another.

And of course it’s all good in that first couple of months when everything is just so new and bright and shiny then you start to grate on each other’s nerves, when everything s/he says just annoys you.

I used to have this girl who I “loved” so very very much. I loved her with all my heart and we were destined to be together. Yeah.

She and I saw the signs everywhere. Fate has brought us together. (I didn’t even believe in fate, but I still believed we were destined to be together.) Fate didn’t exist except for between me and her. That was the only thing that was certain in the whole world.

6 months later I snapped at her because I couldn’t stand the fact that she couldn’t say quesedilla.

She would call it a KWE-SE-DILLIA.

I fumed, “It’s KAY-SE-DIYA you idiot. Everyone knows its quesedilla. The Q I can understand but why are you adding another vowel sound to the end of the word. That’s not even there. You’re pronouncing it so bloody wrong, I can’t believe that someone could be so stupid.”

That happens. It does.

That’s love, alright.

That’s the best you’re gonna get. Sorry.