I remember walking around in the mall today, just observing the people... so many different lives... what could they be thinking?
They say love is real... that nothing could be more real than this... but how come so many people die unloved? Why do so many people walk alone in this world? And so we come to the painful realization that love might be real... but it's not for everybody...
So is it really just some kind of social construct... a capitalist propaganda used to sell beauty products and Hollywood movies? How can it be real when it's too arbitrary... when the standards we set for it are highly elitist and unreasonable -- the exact same standards that we are passing on to our children every day...
People are so obsessed with beauty. Billions of dollars are spent in fashion, fitness and cosmetics each year, just to make people feel worse about themselves... Magazines, movies, music, heck even the automobile, liquor and tobacco industries rely almost entirely on this illusion of beauty... and society's response is this: only the beautiful deserve to be loved.
How about the disabled? The dark-skinned? The burn victim? People who have an acne problems? Fat people? Ugly people? I see so much imperfection in the world burdened with so much sadness.
My family has been lucky so far... each of my siblings have experienced love at one time or another... but I think about the people who surround me... even my closest friends... and I see the hard-to-acknowledge truth that most of them have never known love... and an even sadder truth is that some of them might never find it in this lifetime... If I could use my own friends as a measuring stick, I would say about 70% of humanity will never find it... and of those who do, they will never understand it... Darwin would have been proud to see all this pain.
I have been a very lucky bastard. Time and again, my friends remind me... and time and again, I forget. I've had my unfair share of love... I cannot count the times I've been hurt just as I cannot account for the girls I have hurt in this short lifetime... but one thing's for sure, I have loved many... and I've been lucky enough to have sometimes known what it is to be loved in return... and though I do not consider myself, by any means, as an attractive man... I have no choice but to consider myself a very lucky one (my closest friends can attest to this).
So why am I still complaining?
Because in spite of all these things... all the luck... all the experiences... all the insight... I still know nothing... and I don't know what to tell a friend of mine in New York when he asks me about how to attract women... I don't know what to tell my little cousin if he asks me 'how do you know if a girl likes you?'
All the books, all the poetry, all the crap ever written about it is of no practical importance at all... all the motherhood statements, the cliches, the annoying anecdotes, the idealistic bullcrap have no value whatsoever out there... Out there, it's a jungle... it's a cruel, sadistic jungle... and there are no answers, no strategies, no solutions... love, if it exists, is too arbitrary to be claimed as normal human experience... there are too many factors to consider... and most of them, you'd rather ignore... there is just too much randomness... too much uncertainty... and it makes me nauseous just thinking about it.
It sickens me... I feel this strange churning in my stomach each time someone tells me that he "looks up to me" or that "I have it all figured out"... What the hell is wrong with the world?
My friends, you want me to be honest? Well... I have no freakin' idea what I'm doing. Not a goddamn clue.
My only advice: Prepare yourself for a lot of pain.
