Saint Valentine's Day Part 2 I am Jack's raging bile duct.

One year ago I wrote a blog titled "Saint Valentine's Day" mostly out of sarcasm because there actually never existed a Saint Valentine and out of pure disgust for the sheer commercialism of this fake little "Holiday". And because I was a romantic at the time and believed that a significant other should show their love the other 364 of the year, spontaneously. Of course at this time last year I still believed in love and happily ever after. I still believed that finding love would be like the end of a John Hughes movie, where the guy realizes he's in love with the outcast girl as much as she is with him and shows up at her church/prom/yard to profess his love and win the girl despite adversity. I believed that if one truly loved you they would fight for your love no matter what. Last year I believed, but time and again in the past year my bitter rhetoric has been proven to me unequivocally, without question. The three times that I put myself out there was three times I got thrown back over drugs, cowardice and a pizza shop job. No, I don't believe anymore. And as I'm sitting here writing this blog I realize that there are 3 pages of handwritten notes that I'm ignoring because I don't feel like being funny for your sake today, faithful reader. I don't want to pretend that I see humor in a made up holiday that yearly seems to be a reminder at what an utter failure I am at finding a partner. Much like Fight Club, I am Jack's raging bile duct. They destroyed something beautiful and believing in me and now I am as jaded as one once thought I was. I don't believe in love, instead I believe it's a feeling of being comfortable with another person in your life and nothing more. I believe that attraction is just chemically based for breeding purposes, there is no passion just a biological means to an end to perpetuate the species. There is no love at first sight, only the thrill of new sex. If we were meant as a species to mate for life than you my married little reader would never find another person attractive. We as a species are programmed by our DNA to find the perfect mate to procreate with. You can sit there all day long and tell me that you love someone but it's all just comfortability and easiness of existence, we just paint the picture of "Love" to make ourselves feel better by putting an emotional worth on it instead of the callous truth of it. I want to destroy something beautiful. " I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke." I have the insane urge to punch a giant red stuffed bear in the face, behead an overzealous store employee with a box of cheap chocolates as soon as they open their mouth to say "Happy Val..." or ram those damn flowers straight down their falsity spewing mouths. Yeah, I've learned my lesson all too well in the past 365. I've learned not to take care of anyone else but myself, to keep the key to my heart around my neck and never give it to another, I've learned that no one fights for love, they just walk away. So fuck Valentine's Day, fuck putting yourself out there for another and fuck propagating the lie of love because eventually "On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." 


I'm off to have a near life experience. Till next time...


BEX