My Secret Love


My Secret Love

I love. I’m in love with love. But I can never love anybody. Nobody can. Because when you say you love a person, you only love the representation of that person in your mind. That representation will always be different from who that person really is. If you think about it, you don’t even know yourself all that well. How could you even hope to know someone else? No. Love–the way it’s been painted in our collective human culture–exists only in a virtual world where nobody exists, within your mind’s reality. Whatever behaviours, actions or words that come out of you in the physical plane towards that person are only manifestations of that inner, inventive love. We only love the idea of that person in our mind, even if the idea is false. Oh, how many have fallen for someone they have never met or seen, but only by the virtue of their pictures, whispers or writings. Love is not a bond; it’s an imagination. A beautiful, pleasurable imagination that I partake in everyday. With everybody.


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