Happy Valentine’s Day y’all!
It’s official. I hate you.
This probably sounds somehow coming from someone who writes the kind of things I write, but it’s true – as true as the words that are appearing on this page as I type them.
I hate you.
I know; you’re probably somewhere in the clouds, fluttering your annoying little child-cherub wings and getting drunk with your buddy Dionysus – who is way more reliable than you are, by the way.
Well, I hope you choke on a grape and it kills you. I hope your wings freeze in mid-flight; preferably while you’re over the Third Mainland Bridge – so you can fall from that great height and break all your miserable little bones. I hope you get so drunk you lose your sense of direction and fly into the sun.
You miserable little liar you.
Don’t get it confused; I’m not the only one who hates you. I’m just the one with balls enough to call you out. There’s a whole bunch of us carrying placards asking for your head on a platter. We would prefer you alive and whole so we can fish-fillet you; but if that’s impossible we’ll take the next best thing.
Yes; we’re calling for your life – or death as it were. You lied to us, Cupid! You sold us a boatload of horse dung and we bought it hook line and sinker. I mean; they always say gods cannot be trusted but I had to meet you to know just how true it is. You told me love is the answer; you said only love can conquer hate. You said I would be happy forever – just like Cinderella and Snow White and the nameless handsome prince.
Fine. I know I’m not handsome – but you didn’t say that mattered!
See what I mean? You’re a slimy, disgusting two-faced liar.
You lied to me – you lied, and gloated while I stumbled in the mess of romance, trying to find that elusive ‘Happily Ever After’ you promised. And I tried, Cupid. I tried; so miss me with that ‘am I supposed to do everything for you’ speech.
It’s gotten boring.
Don’t make promises you can’t keep. That’s a simple rule of business – of life. You don’t lead people along and then do some silly stuff like ask them to figure it out themselves. You might as well stand on the sidelines and leave us to figure it out. At least, then if we do a bang up job there will be no one but ourselves to blame.
But no; human misery is something you clearly find pleasing. So you promise and lead us by the nose and laugh yourself crazy as we pile up casualty after casualty in our desperate search for the proverbial pot of gold at the end of romance’s rainbow. We stagger around in pits of quicksand, looking for and clutching at straws while we sink in our own misery; perhaps realizing only too late that love; just like life, is what we make of it.
I mean, when could you ever trust a god?
So I hope against hope; ignoring you and your childish quest for gratification, determined to disappoint you at least this one time and find that haven on earth you promised. And as I squirm and wriggle my way out of the mire I allowed you lead me into, I come into myself; realizing that a ‘happy ending’ is not one you walk into, it’s one you create. I realize that you’re nothing but a miserable little creep doomed to unhappiness and therefore seeks to find joy in the misery of others; and therefore there’s no greater favor that I can do myself than to deny you that pleasure. And as I walk towards this light at the end of love’s tunnel, I entertain the possibility that maybe this was your goal all along; to shock me into taking responsibility for my life. That maybe I have to work for and through ‘happily ever after’ daily.
I realize that maybe if you had told me that; told me just how much of it lays in my hands at the beginning, I probably wouldn’t have tried at all.
I’m making excuses for you.
Maybe I’m right; maybe not. Maybe you’re really the sweet little cherub and not the villain I’m making you out to be. But one thing remains;
I hate you. Put that in your little wine cup and drink it along with your 100% proof bullshit.