i agree with george, „perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood”.

love can promise you so many silly things. i mean, ffs, it promises you forever when everything’s momentary.

i see love as i see that flower we pick to prove our feelings: it starts up by looking magnificent, fierce, erect and proud to serve its purpose.
but we all know the life span of a cut flower. (it’s short.)

i’ve heard so many people scream love at me,
but i’ve only felt bits of it.

and can love really be, if there’s no intimacy between two minds?

can you love something you don’t understand?

it feels like we wanna be or look normal soooo badly, that we rush a false sense of privacy and closeness into our lives. we put pressure on everything we want. because we want it!

and shit, it works. maybe we get what we want, because we all kinda have the same needs at some point: to belong, feel loved and safe.

like a bunch of almost-zombies. full of wounds, invading the streets with one clear target in mind: fill the fcking void now!

there’s no healing happening, dudes and dudettes.
no betadine is being frantically splashed around;
there’s nothing to deal with and for sure no lessons to be learned.

once we’re done with a situation, the automatic “the show’s over, there’s nothing to see here” mode steps in and we move on to the next soon to be crime scene.

cool.