I never understood why people always rushed around and wasted their precious lives away. Once upon a time I used to enjoy being alone, the quiet, peace. Now I see why one would wish nothing less than loud chaos that make time seem to pass swifter.  For a person to abide the silence they must first bear truth, for in the silence of solitude there is nothing but the cold honesty of your own mind. Unless you happen to be psychotic to the point of creating your own delusional world in which you are quite content, you need distraction from your thoughts. People, love, caffeine, music, colors, anything to take your mind off the misery of living, of making a decision to which neither side is ideal, to pretend that everything is okay when it’s not. That is why we fly through our pitiful existence as if there is no tomorrow.

Take for an example, a pretty girl; she had a normal life, overbearing parents she despised, a close friend or two she trusted, and a perfectly good guy she loved and thought the world of. However things are never as well as they seem, she has a drinking problem, she lost the guy she loved because she slept with his best friend. Twice. Now though she still loves him she tries to move on, and for a while she simply had sex with people she knew to ease the pain. Now, she parties, has the occasional blackout, and has a new boyfriend who she believes in and whom believes in her and loves her despite her hatred of her own past; and despite all the inner turmoil she still hopes.

Another boy, broken by cupids’ arrow, hit and missed by love, a family torn apart by dignity and social need. The price of normalcy often overlooked by the “perfect” culture, paid heavily by a young girl intent on personal utopia. Belonging to a clique, which she must conform within, and in doing so breaking fragile bridges made of only glass to begin with. Coinciding with a lovelorn soul, crying out for only one compassionate partner. One true soul to spend eternity with.

All the while watching as a young artist throws away a true love, who already gave her love away, then wished it back, for comfort of a more steady kind. Even though she yearns for another that she could not allow herself to have, she stays. if only for a physical substitute for real passion. Looking toward a future of false affections and an empty career. Perhaps children reared on the belief that they should follow their best interest than the desires of a false heart.  Just as she was.

People search for love, some find it, but few have kept it. Because how long does true love last? Perhaps we should ask instead, when does true love end? It doesn’t. Love can be manipulated to fit a survival need, but the true love underlies such contrived emotion by slowly poisoning the soul. For perhaps it is only from the view of wasted talent, but to turn ones back on love is a damnable sin, is it not? Faith in the non-tangible, the unseen, the impossible, the belief that there is more has driven us to create things unimaginable only centuries ago, but the necessity to escape anguish drives us back, to the same classic vices it always has, sex, drugs, money, religion, and love. It is only a developed species that must kill itself as a way to expand and progress. We are without the empathy we claim to encompass, else we would be…extinct.