Pessimistic, am I? Nah. It’s just the truth.
Let me justify the title of this post. First, endings are never happy. Why would you end it if you’re happy? Only fairy tales have happy ends, not in real life. So please spare me with all the mushy nonsense that love makes happy endings real. No, it doesn’t. Any practical man would see reason to this argument.
Let’s be realistic here. Okay, so you fall in love, get married, then what? Have babies, be torn with your career and family life. Get sick or grow old, then you die. We live to die. Only morbid people would love to die. Unless you are really religious and you would die for your religion, but that’s a different light to tackle.
We live to die. It’s as simple as that. No happy ends, just a rotting corpse, who was melancholically buried. It’s a sad affair. So now, tell me, is that a happy end? Yeah, thought so.
Aside from this bitter skeptic rant, I am pleased to inform you that I am not giving up on love. I’m only bracing my self, putting myself in a “no-expectation” zone, which is really hard, by the way, knowing that girls are all-assuming and suspicious beings. But typing it here makes it more difficult because I know that I’ll be expecting no matter what happens. Unless I’m a bed-ridden, comatose patient. (no offense)
As I have said before, I am in a continuous battle with my mind. The desires of my heart are gagged by mind which is really frustrating hence these senseless rants. The dictatorship in the society is suffocating, the stereotyping and the judicial glares of the world is crippling especially to a fee mind.
Okay, now, I didn’t understand what I just said.
Fuck this stupid mind. Fogged, clouded and messed up.