You'd be lying if you said you haven't rolled your eyes at least once during a cheesy romance movie, or during some power ballad about the woes of love. At one point, every person on earth has been cynical, condescending, or just plain above the mushy, disgustingly sappy, ridiculously over dramatic portrayals of this stupid, commercialized emotion called love.
Call me bitter. Call me heartless. But I consider myself all of the above. It might be the cause of a mostly single existence, or maybe the product of. Blame it on my parents, blame it on the media, blame it on me, but it is what it is. When I see a teenage couple walking down the street all over each other, I know that they'll probably just break up in a week or so. When I see girls posting sappy love quotes, or lamenting about their current fling or crush or whatever on their preferred social networking site, I blow it off and give it little to no credit.
Despite it all, I know love exists. It has to, or else we'd all end up killing each other. Or ourselves. Dare I say it, I've experienced it before. And let me tell you, it blows. It's like an annoying song lyric that gets stuck in your head, or like a cold sore that won't ever go away. That one person makes you act differently, look at things in a whole new way, and next thing you know, they suddenly got you all vulnerable. You didn't ask for this to happen, it just did. Then it just starts to suck. Because then it starts to hurt, when they don't return the feeling, or some shit like that.
All this "swept off my feet" and "on cloud nine" giddy sayings about love are so inaccurate. Sure it might be nice, but in my experience, this is how it goes: if it's real, it's like getting strapped into a horrifying roller-coaster against your will. It takes you hostage and throws you all over the place, occasionally enjoyable, always unpredictable, and then you'd give anything to stop the ride and get off.
But what do I know? I'm just a kid. I've got a lot of life left to live.
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