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Love. The suposed force, that has made so many people happy. The feeling called the most beatiful. But I can’t catch the beauty of the feeling…

What is truly Love? There is not a certain definition. But I can tell what it is not. And I shall. Love is not the atraction, the glue that holds people togheter. That is ,as I said reserved for the Atraction, and it alone. Love is not the carnal wish for pleasure, in the way of the touch. That is the most ancient feeling of the human kind. The wish for sexual pleasure, was already present, long before any Love or Atraction had come to meet the Human Kind. Love is not the force that moves the lunatic, in his journey for the abyss. That is the Madness, disguised as Love…

Love is like the alpha male. He has what he wants, when he wants, at a step of every other male. That is what Love is. He lives at a step of every other feeling, uses them as they use him, and can still always get a good reputation. Love is the cruel and manipulator feeling, that uses us mortals, for his own sick amusement., the dreadful and silent one, that defends the end justifies the middle. Love is the melancolic music, played time, and time again, in an evergoing dance of happiness and sadness. Love is the ancient force, that draws people together, in a way that they forget how it is to live alone, in a way that people cannot think of anything else besides their “Loved” one.

Some spent their life, looking for a way to control that force. Looking for a way to make others feel that Love for them. Some discovered some simple ways that granted them a limited amount of power. Others looked how to mess wih ones head, hipnotizing them. But some, looked incessantly for the unlimited. Some planned to overthrow Love from his throne. But got mad in that quest. Insanity has always been a great friend of Love. So is Destiny. He is the the one who truly does the bidding of Love.

What about those who do not obey love? Those are forever haunted with Fear and Loneliness, since they are considered “unworthy”. Now, where is the beauty of Love now? Where is the beauty of seeing all those puppets, thinking they love. Mere mortals. Can’t they see the lie? Can’t they see that so many died, and Love is the blame? All of them, victims, of the biggest conspiraçy, the oldest of them all…

And I, in the silence, I try to go against the rules, I conspire to their forces. I dream one day we will not be forced to love someone, an will choose who we will love. One day all of those powerful feelings will be overthrown, and once again we shall be free…

Love. What an overated word…