Back to stage negative again.
So it has occured to me that every romantic notion that I've ever heard in my life is a complete lie.
Every Keats poem, every maudeline (sp?) movie moment that has gotten me to shed a tear, every fantasy I've ever had.
Lies. All of them.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not some jaded, bitter, broken-hearted son of a bitch teenager who's going to rant on about how real love doesn't exist and all that.
Because it does. It's just not anything we think it is.
There's that old cliche about how you can't love anyone until you first love yourself, and let's be honest...that's a load of shit.
The whole reason we love in the first place is because it gives us another reason to love ourselves. We love and we aspire to love because we've been culturally conditioned to do so.
Love, an evolutionary mechanism? It's possible.
It's the feeling of wholeness that we want. It really doesn't matter who the other party involved is at all.
The first phase of the whole love process is self-verification. It's the whole reason we even bother to love in the first place. Because it lets us know that we have the ability and that we're not going to wander the planet alone for the rest of our miserable lives.
Loving yourself has little to do with it at all. Loving yourself is what gets you into the whole mess in the first place.
Love is vanity that moonlights as something beautiful.
It's only when we let go of ourselves and stop giving a shit about everything else in the world and how it reflects on us that we can even start to give a damn about anyone we claim to love.
Stop loving yourself. Stop caring so much about yourself and your worries and your drama and your needs and your wants. Then you have the ability to love. Stop looking for love because YOU need to feel completed. Start loving because you have no other choice.
Find someone who doesn't complete you, but rather complete yourself and seek out someone who has done the same.
Every Keats poem, every maudeline (sp?) movie moment that has gotten me to shed a tear, every fantasy I've ever had.
Lies. All of them.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not some jaded, bitter, broken-hearted son of a bitch teenager who's going to rant on about how real love doesn't exist and all that.
Because it does. It's just not anything we think it is.
There's that old cliche about how you can't love anyone until you first love yourself, and let's be honest...that's a load of shit.
The whole reason we love in the first place is because it gives us another reason to love ourselves. We love and we aspire to love because we've been culturally conditioned to do so.
Love, an evolutionary mechanism? It's possible.
It's the feeling of wholeness that we want. It really doesn't matter who the other party involved is at all.
The first phase of the whole love process is self-verification. It's the whole reason we even bother to love in the first place. Because it lets us know that we have the ability and that we're not going to wander the planet alone for the rest of our miserable lives.
Loving yourself has little to do with it at all. Loving yourself is what gets you into the whole mess in the first place.
Love is vanity that moonlights as something beautiful.
It's only when we let go of ourselves and stop giving a shit about everything else in the world and how it reflects on us that we can even start to give a damn about anyone we claim to love.
Stop loving yourself. Stop caring so much about yourself and your worries and your drama and your needs and your wants. Then you have the ability to love. Stop looking for love because YOU need to feel completed. Start loving because you have no other choice.
Find someone who doesn't complete you, but rather complete yourself and seek out someone who has done the same.