, , , , , , ,

You tell me you can’t stand to listen to me anymore. My words to your ears are ramblings. What gives you the right to judge me, my words, my feelings? You’re not better than me. If anything, you’re worse, since your answer to a waving white flag is to simply ignore it and strike back even harder, even more brutally.

You don’t know love…You get close to a person or other for what they can offer you. People to you are sources of pleasure, of comfort, or reassurance, of amusement. People to you are like toys. You choose a favorite one and selfishly keep it all to yourself. But sooner or later, you get bored of it and you discard it without a second thought. Oh, wait! It’s not a toy we’re talking about, it’s real people. Friends, family, lovers- all at the mercy of your capricious nature.

Love? You don’t know love. If you did, you wouldn’t think of yourself as the center of the universe and expect people to constantly be giving – a shoulder to cry on, reassurance, affection…you name it! Capricious child! Whims are passing, has nobody ever told you that? The real thing doesn’t die, it morphs, it takes new shapes and paints itself in new hues, it gives without expecting reward and it receives without having to ask.

Trying to teach the lesson of love, you’ve once said that this particular feeling is fickle. I hate to break it to you, but you were teaching the wrong lesson, you were teaching something that you yourself had not yet learnt or learnt in a corrupted manner. And yet the lesson was somehow understood perfectly by the studious disciple.