It took me an hour to get over our relationship. If you could call it that. One date and a couple make outs later and the L-word was dashing about as though we almost meant it. I suppose we almost felt it. Something other than just a faint silly hope that somehow soulmates seemed a tangible goal, just out of reach within the inexperience of youth. Like somehow whatever it was we thought we knew we were wasn't just the reflection of god rays against an hourglass which we so tirelessly groped towards.
In actual fact, we felt nothing for each other. I believed I'd feel nothing for anyone ever. There is no such thing as love anymore when you think on it. Suddenly everything is merely a weapon with which to control others. We involve ourselves in relations for status, wealth or the intense sexual cravings of post-adolescent lustfulness. Love is burnt out old Polaroid snapshots of your grandparents' forced marriage which you show to your cynical friend with proclamations like:
"See! I told you! They're still together to this day."
True Love is the more laughable and more unobtainable concept. Almost as laughable as Love at first sight.
These notions are nothing other than our torturous imaginations slipping us ecstasy in the form of dopamine each night inciting the need to fuck the first horny bastard we stumble across at a bar and he tells us how bloody beautiful our eyes are while he stares at our barely covered tits.
Perhaps, I'm searching for the kind of love you feel after you've had a romp, without having to do the nasty with some attractive, studded boy just to get back at my mother and make normal girls look at me funny.
I suppose that's impossible.
Perhaps I'll just kidnap an attractive boy or girl and stick a gun to their head to make them cuddle me into a satisfactory state of lovedness. Just go ahead and ruin the romance while I'm at it like:
Love at first sight? Rather not. That's what roofies are for.
