Slaughterhouse Six

I hope I’m not crazy for being the only one who thinks love has become endangered, borderline extinct. Well, I can’t speak for other cities or states besides LA and California. There was a time when one was lucky to fall in love, a time when we didn’t think one unlucky for being in love. You’ve seen it, and we all know you’ve secretly thought to yourself, “poor bastard.” When they say history repeats itself, it’s precisely this that proves the futility of this hopeful though indignant/indulgent plight. If you kill a man, make sure he doesn’t have any connections. Via heartache or on a literal basis. When they killed Jesus, they didn’t think about who his Dad was did they?

On the subject of history repeating itself, it, inadvertently resembles time-travel, a volition of statistics, and an accurate hypothesis of what happens next etc. What I mean is if you can time-travel, then you can already expect the worst to happen, which means you know a piece of the future and can do something to avoid it, right? However, humans are silly, and we all secretly think we’re the one person in history that can rebuke our fate. If there’s one thing time-traveling can teach you, it’s that your intellect can, at the least, make your love-life bearable. Settle for less, or settle for reaching for the dream. Yes it sounds terrible, but which part of modern love can you think of that isn’t adjective of terrible? (Besides the beginning, because we all know that’s the best part. Ironically it gets you so high, that you can only roll down the hill afterwards.)

(This post brought to you through countless counseling sessions hosted by yours truly. The end result, you can only become a better version of you in order to combat the reality, [which is the current you.])

“Hang in there! You know things are gonna get better before you can do this all over again!”

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Filed under non-fiction metaphor, stories

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