I barely know what love is. Rather, I barely know what love isn’t, which is basically the same thing.
I know that love, as we like to call it, ends. Even in the best case scenario, you spend 80 years with someone you’ve duped into believe you are interesting — only for one of you to croak.
Worst case…well we all know. Unrequited feelings, no-good exes, dead parents, a brother who disappears into the bottom of bottles… even your adorable new puppy will one day be reduced to a pile of minerals to feed the soil.
So if you are smart you say “Fuck that,” disown your family and stay alone forever. Anything to avoid getting them damn feelies, right?
Nah. You gon’ fall. Over n over. And that is phenomenal, you perfectly imperfect thing you.
Sure, you and everyone you love will eventually turn into a convenient gravestone and a packet of memories. But a million billion years ago, a star gave all of itself over to the cosmos to provide you with every one of the cells you carry around to this day. Don’t see anyone cryin’ over them, do you? You should feel blessed. Maybe in another billion or so, you can power the generators on one of your star-hopping descendant’s ships. It’s all cyclical n shit.
What’s my point? Iunno, eat your vegetables that are likely filled with the remains of your ancestors? Dance like no one is watching (or equally cringe worthy cat poster phrases)?
Nah. Have your pity party, you deserve it. Life is a death sentence and you didn’t ask to be born.
Then, promptly grow a pair (ovaries, testicles, dragon balls — I don’t care), and get out there and be the you that came before the world buried you under their own burdens.
In the scheme of things, we are here for a blink. A blip. A nanosecond. Other small measurements. And I don’t wanna force anyone’s hand here, but we could, theoretically, if we wanted to, do this thing where we…start acting like it.
We all get eaten by the worms and weird fishes in the end.
(Song recommendation by Jon Johnson)