love and such

Why does everyone cling to love? Love is extremely subjective, in my opinion. Everyone has their own definition of love, despite there being a universal definition. For some, love could look like obsessiveness. For others, love could look like romantic dinners and cute picnic dates with a marriage down the road. Or, a best friend. All of these in some way are true. But is love real? How do we know what we feel is real? Are we real?

Reality is also subjective. Why does everybody believe in a higher power? Why do we need an explanation of why we are here? Our curiosity is never-ending. Our intelligence will be our downfall. We will never stop learning until our death. Personally, I don't believe in a higher power. A set of rules written in an old book does not explain our existence. We always need an explanation for something, but some things should remain unexplained and will remain so. We will never know until we are gone. We are simply organisms whose consciousness and deep emotion are a cursed blessing. Peace will never exist, and love will never be unconditional. Those who say the only unconditional love we will ever receive is from our parents are ignorant. From thousands, no, millions of cases of abuse and neglect, this can easily be proven wrong. We will never be loved our entire lives. Love does not exist. Yet we cling to it.

We cling to things we cannot have. We want things we will never have. Our curiosity is our driving motive. This intrigues me. Once we have those things, we want more. We are never satisfied. We are never happy. Satisfaction and happiness do not exist either. We do not exist. We are in a reality that does not exist. No reality is a reality. Yet, reality is reality because we believe so and we do exist. Life and death are contradictory. Life leads to death, so there is no life. Death leads to a new life, supposedly, so there is no death. Neither matter. It is an endless cycle of chemicals, senses, and experiences. It will never be real. For all we know, we live in a game. We live in a book. We live in a letter. We will never know. I hope we never know.