The disease called love.

I trained myself to be reclusive. Never let the humans see the real you. Smile through my eyes. Laugh with artificial joy. Don’t love. Never love. Love is nothing but drawn out suicide.  Lust? Lust is fun. Infatuation can be very amusing. Sex? Oh dont even get me started on the thrills of that act! But, Love? That’s the most dangerous disease of all and at some point we all wanna catch it. Has no rhyme or reason. Not picky. No one is exempt. No real warnings. One day you’re you. Next day you wanna be an “us”. Then you become an “us” and forget yourself…if you’re lucky enough to have your love reciprocated. But love doesn’t always last. Drama likes to break love. Throw in jealousy, pettiness, and sideline hoes and you have doubt. If those facts don’t kill love, the trust issues associated with them will. I’m not saying falling in love equals doom. Some people actually last. They make love look glamorous with kisses amd sunshine. And those lucky few give those of us on the dark side something to admire or hate.


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