When I wrote the words, I was referring to a particular incident, a particular event in my life.

But then, upon further inspection, it seems that it goes far beyond this.

I was duped from day one. As a little girl, I was told fantastical stories of love. The little tin soldier who fell in love with the paper ballerina, and threw himself into the fire after her. The little mermaid who loved someone so much that she gave her life as she knew it for him, and eventually her life entirely. Snow White, Cinderella. The list goes on.

Movies, books, everything has told me about this love, this great love, that though it may bring with it great pain, is still love and that people can love each other so much that nothing else matters.

But the reality seems to be this. We lie to each other, we use each other, we scheme to get what we want, instant gratification, future gratification, the promise of gratification, the anticipation and preparation in order to achieve gratification.

We fuck or get fucked to fulfill some kind of selfish desire.

We play games to get what we want. We say things that we know want to be heard. We say things to hurt, in order to achieve an effect.

We backstab, we self-obsess, we go back on our promises, we make promises we can't keep or don't ever intend to.

I would love to say that I'm exempt of this behaviour, but I'm not. Not 100%.

But I can say that I've tried. I can say that I've tried to give that kind of little tin soldier love, that willingness to give it all up for something so beautiful that life without it seems completely pointless. But it's always been thrown back in my face, used against me. I've been accused of all kinds of things.

It's like love is this complete myth that humans have been perpetuating from the very beginning. Our way of hiding from the awful truth, that we're just animals, and everything is about the pursuit of the act of procreation. Further the species then die. And that idea is so distasteful that we fabricated love to convince ourselves that we've evolved above this, that we're capable of so much more because we're lofty humans, able to reason, create, destroy etc etc, we're practically gods, and gods don't treat each other like this.

But they did. Jesus, the greek gods fucking ATE each other and shit.

I wonder what we'd invent if we started eating each other. It's an evolved way of dining. It's LOVE to consume someone else. Hell, someone already did that over in europe. I believe he's being charged with murder, but the idea is out there.

Anyway, I'm angry and I feel lied to because all my life, and even now, I've believed and wanted to believe that it's possible to love and be loved in a way that makes everything else worth living for too. That there is someone out there for us that could wake us from the deepest sleep, that with a kiss could knock free the poisoned apple lodged within us, the poisoned apple in my heart. That there is someone out there that would leap into fire for me, and that I would do the same for.

And that it is real. Not some way to get into my pants. Not some way to ensure my security for the rest of my life. Not some big act that we put on because that's the way life is supposed to be lived.

Real. Real in the sense that we are with them because if we weren't we'd die.

I've been to three weddings this summer. I'm going to one more tomorrow. There was one today that broke my heart.

And even after all this expression of committment, I still feel cheated, I still feel lied to. The more I see, the more detached I feel.

How sad for me. Eh?