markpainter

Love is melancholy, the blackest of the biles,violent,angry,outrageous.It is sad and painful.We are conceived in flaming barbaric debauchery,delivered in pain,arrive in this world blood-covered and screaming,and are in peace only in the end.

Real love,the truest love,is not joyful,calming,and comfortable.It is passion!It is conflicting and debilitating,saddening and disappointing .It is never what we want it to be,and so we chase after it as we might...
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