Love, the only thing that is certain besides our dates with Death. It doesn’t matter what amount of tears anyone can pour into Wishing Wells more communal than we think, we all want love, to be loved. Whenever I hear someone yell out,
“Fuck love!”
Somewhere deep inside their heart, miserably stitched by innocent desires gone sour, their anger will always translate into, “I just really need a hug.”
Can’t help but ask myself that everlasting question brought up by every mind gone dark. What else even matters? What else do we take to the grave beside a soul left to wander through the jungles of purgatory? What else can it be other than the feeling you get when thinking about another’s smile?
Everything else kind of just fades away, does it? Eventually, every tree dies, the soil rots until it can no longer grow what all of our bodies need to survive and, sooner or later, our existence will be no more. But, the one thing that will always be kept within your heart until the very last second of your stay in this universe? That love you hold for those so dear to a soul too tired to keep on trucking…
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