Duty Calls

It ain't pretty to wake up and suddenly realize that what we'd like to call "Love" is some screwed up sham, just like the annoying buzzing sound of your alarm clock right in the middle of a wet dream.

There's only one thing left for me to do: Shatter the myth of its eternity!

Bare with me...You all know there comes a time when a couple must:

1. Go their separate ways

2. Kill themselves (and thus putting themselves out of their misery)

or(lucky number) 

3. Procreate!

Here you have the 3 processes that do nothing else than confirm their happily never after. 

We often hear that, after a while, passion takes the shape of "something else", something much stronger and more beautiful. That this "something else" is love with a capital "L", some sort of feeling, surely, a little less exciting, but, nevertheless, less immature. 

Let me be very clear: this "something else" is getting on my last nerve, and, if this is Love, then i'll leave it to the lazy people of the world, to the hopeless people of the world and, of course, to the "ripe" sort that bask in their own sentimental comfort. 

As for me, love has a little 'l' but great momentum; it might not last long but at least, when it's right here and right now, you can feel it. 

This "something else" of theirs, that "something else" they'd like to turn love into, seems to be some bedtime story invented for their own satisfaction, for their personal animal gratification, so that they can trumpet their lives away singing that there's nothing else better out there.