Sunday, 1 August 2010
Fairytales make us believe that love is all encompassing, forever forgiving. Sacrifice and love are supposedly linked. So we bow and we break. We give, forgetting to take. And we laugh when we shouldn't, and think that we'll die, when we won't. Fairytales make us believe that we are born only half. So we spend our time looking for the part, that which will make us whole. Succeeding only in reaching the frustration of someone who's spent years working on a puzzle, reaching the last piece, only unable to find it. But that is not what love is. That kind of love will only ever leave you empty. That last piece will never suffice. You be the sun, I' ll be the moon. I am beautiful, with or without you.