My depressing, cynical lament over love.
Love is all around me. It’s like walking into one of those scenes of a movie where the colors are vivid, the flowers are blooming and everyone is happy. People are dancing and singing in the street. It is written in the stars, the time has come for everyone to fall in love. Except me.
I was busy swimming in the sewer of life with everyone else, and then one day it changed for everyone else except me. Someone opened the door and let everyone out. And then they all climbed out and left me without a light to see my way through the shit.
So now life and love is blooming all above me, but I cannot see it because I am still stuck down here, looking for a way out. Will I ever find the way out, or should I learn to make friends with the other sewer rats since I will be here for awhile. They are forever down here, this is their home. Maybe this is where I belong, just like them. Maybe I should look for love in the sewer instead of trying to find the blooming flowers of love up above. Maybe I am just a sewer love rat.
Fuck this love shit. I’m going to stay in the sewer for awhile so I don’t feel tempted to gouge my eyes out with a fork every time I see another bouquet of flowers from a loving boyfriend to one of my friends who used to be my sewer companion.