Romance is even deader than I thought, I would love for someone to prove me wrong.

I look around this damn frigid city and I just wonder insistently, what else is there?  Because there has to be more, right?  There has to be.  And I’ve yet to see it.  I’ve yet to see that magic that supposedly exists between people that can light sparks and enflame hearts and all that other bullshit.  I’ve made the claim before that romance is dead, then I proved it to myself even more than I ever thought possible.  And now I know, it’s like a brittle snapped-off branch on the ground, frosted with crunchy, icy snow, wrapped in flaking gray bark that’s slowly disintegrating.

Melodramatic?  I don’t really think so… I’m just so fed up with “romance”.  The very word to me connotes only awful, unpleasant things.  Putting stake into something that will never work out for no apparent reason for example, or good memories that are suddenly and unexpectedly soured so that you never want to think of them ever again.  And yet, the destructive and cruel power of romance only makes people more ravenous, I think… why?  Why do we want something so badly that’s so painful and awkward and complicated?  Remember when life was simple?  Why can’t life just stay that way?

Because I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: life is fundamentally cruel.

And romance is fundamentally dead… anyone care to prove me wrong?… Anyone?

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