i dont believe in love, just like i dont believe in santa claus or the tooth fairy. the idea that there is one person in the world who is perfect for me seems as absurd to me as cinderella going to the ball or sleeping beauty being awoken by prince charming.
the reason i feel like that of course lies in my past. i guess everyone is a product of their experiences and i for one am no exception. everyone who has said they ever loved me either lied, died, or didn't know me in the first place. anyone would be cynical under those circumstances, infact i'd be foolish not to be.
when the person you love the most in the world kills themself, you kind of give up on love. i used to believe that everyone has one soulmate, but that myth died when mine blew his face off with an antique luger pistol. seeing your lovers brains splashed across the covers of the bed you were having sex in hours earlier is probably the makings of lifelong insecurity. the realisation that life and love is as changeable as the seasons. that one person is as disposable as the next.
