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Why is is that so many questions are unanswered?

Why is it that so many answers go unanswered? Why is it that half the time I am at loss and don’t recognize my emotions. Why is it that I can’t find of reasons to like you, I don’t even think I do. Maybe this profound connection, this mental, almost desise, is what love is. Maybe this search for the “great”- as shown in movies is all false and is created because of greedy businessmen who want money. Maybe charm is the trick, and love is only a result of passion or ideas or unique emotions you find with no other. Maybe this search for the magic of your life, purpose, is simply your goals. Maybe love has nothing to do with living,(love for a mate, I mean) maybe it’s a trick for sex. Maybe if love does exist it’s only an excuse to feel like you’ve accomplished something. The ordinary life, one most people desire to obtain, yet I resent the very thought. It’s based on a family, a husband who you are said to adore, children who you are said to adore, and profession or job. That life, so ordinary and unappealing consists of love. Therefore, if us humans have created the concept that an ordinary life consists of such values, maybe love does exist? Maybe it’s not natures trick, for other animals don’t have love. They just do it because there programmed to. Maybe love is real. Maybe its not. Maybe loving someone means that you feel their pain, you want to listen to them, you accept who they are yet want to desperately improve them. Or maybe it’s what I have now. Maybe it’s an obscure relationship consisting of telepathically thoughts and no physical attraction (on my part) Maybe what I have is a piece of love, is the first step. Maybe love takes years, maybe people claim their in love to obtain this ideal life. Or maybe, just maybe, this concept of love was made up, just like religion. Maybe we don’t know the purpose of life, therefore we turn to the closest thing that is said to feel like magic, love. Maybe we pretend to have it, all of us. Maybe the fact that people have died for another is for the idea of it. Is for their personal accomplishment. Maybe us humans aren’t as smart as we claim to be. Maybe love is merely a goal that no one can reach, that is a simile to god. We believe in him for protection, not feeling alone. Maybe we believe in love as a sort of religion, point of being on this earth





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