"Some times we love with nothing more
than hope.Some times we cry with
everything except tears.In the
end that's all there is:
love and its duty,sorrow and its truth.
In the end that's all we have-to hold
on tight until the dawn."
-SHANTARAM.
Last night you asked me the perfect opposite of love and I presented you with an imbecile you and me.I do not remember what you said to that but the silence within me fanned the glowing embers of a thought process that I do not really trust any longer.
You had once told me that one can never escape two things in life,one being your own goddamn shadow and the other, still worse being the property of coming up with spineless excuses.I understand what you meant then perfectly now as I find it being used as a substitute for everything, which precisely sums up my own incompetence.The worst yet out of them all are finding excuses to love.Convincing your crippled self for your love for a former lover.Its anything but sincere, more of a gamble thing, having pity for its dressing.Can one love just for the sake of it,disparagingly,whispering promises and sharing secrets when they realise how improvident their love is? Baseless.Lame in every sense.But then again,its love and that's big enough an excuse to get one through.
I believe each of us to be a hedonistic sycophant that burgeons on someone elses gullible mind,deriving pleasure from their ignorance. Innocent flummery gushes thought your veins as you put up effigies of your love.So proud.It starts out as mutualism,helping you unsheathe yourself into a disillusionment you surrender you whole self to and you believe it to be intrinsic for your existence,much like a placebo to your needs.And then you crumble under the same weight of that love,trapped in a void inside your hollow selves.You'll live in a dream,in a fake notion believing it to be the only thing real.
Only we forget that life shouts back and everything you have uttered will echo back
and you shall then whisper
Goodnight.
Goodbye.
