so i’ve officially made up my mind on whether “luck” and “love” and all those other intangible entities we base so much of our lives around exist or not, and they don’t. we waste our time blowing on dice before we roll them, blowing kisses to people halfway around the world, hunting for ghosts or dogmatically subscribing to any sort of belief system (ex my old one, the good old “i’m not religious i’m just spiritual”) we can find to not be so afraid of our own mortality, telling people we will later hate and rip to shreds that we “love” them, jumping cracks, skipping numbers, playing the lotto you name it. we dump RIDICULOUS amounts of money and time into other individuals because we’re soo in love with them when the bottom line is even if you get your happily ever after wedding, odds have it that they WILL have an affair, go bankrupt and crazy, develop some sort of emotionally abusive addiction, or just up and die on you, and then where are you left? you banked all your chips on the side of luck and love and end up dead broke trying to burn down your fucking trailer park out of spite like something that crawled out of an old Beck song.. i mean, it just doesn’t exist. being all eccentric and positive and unrealistic and counting on lucky numbers and wishing on fucking stars and pouring my heart and soul into being “loved” by a string of fatally noncommittal men including but NOT limited to thieves cheaters liars drug addicts abusers and various other levels of exhibitionists of such emotionally stunted behaviors was fun for awhile, it really was. it had its charm. i laid in fields of daisies in the sun and thought i was in heaven. i fell in love with the “right” guys twice even though that got me nowhere either except roommate less with an anniversary dress i will never wear or once even rolling down a hill of briars drunk in white cowboy boots after insisting i could drive us home and then crying about why wouldn’t he have sex with me. trust me i did it all. sat in drum circles, made pinky promises, made “BFFL!!”, and even promised a man i would one day be his wife and actually did mean it believe that or not. and like i said, fun while it lasted butttt..

it just doesn’t last. so there’s really no point in getting caught up in the hype of it for a cheap thrill just to crash and burn when it’s all over. it’s like being a drug addict, (spoken by a former addict so do not dare judge my analogy haters) you’re on top of the world for an hour, a night if you’re lucky, maybe even a day.. you can do anything and everything and nothing really matters if it’s right or wrong because you’re going to be so goddamn happy anyway, but then you sober up and start jonesin’ for some more, and maybe you can find it and even though you’re killing yourself and basically burning money it’s worth it because life is one big white hot burning ball of joy again.. but then the day comes that you don’t have any drugs. all the dealers are out, all the moneys gone, and then it hits you. you never escaped your problems, you just got so high you forgot about them. there are drug dealers parked outside your house with guns waiting to try to prostitute you actually if you cannot pay them. your family has disowned you since they haven’t seen you in years. come to think of it you can’t even remember now who you were before it all started. that’s exactly what our culture’s unhealthy obsession with luck and love is like.

i admit it, i stopped doing drugs just to become on of those new-age positive “love thy neighbor” crap damn hippies, and became a total love junkie instead. and now that i’ve woken up from the cathartic dream i find myself not far from where i found myself 3 years ago when i was getting sober.. having to crawl home to live with family because i’ve exhausted my funds (this time on saving for a dream house with my dream man and a number of ridiculously expensive dresses for occasions we will now never celebrate) my family hardly recognizing me (not only because i made a last ditch effort at changing everything about myself including my freakin hair color to keep him around but also because i spent more time off being “in love” than with the only people who actually do love you forever typically, your birth parent(s)) and it’s true.. i don’t have a clue who i was before all of this started. i’m pretty sure i was just a broken hearted teenager who knew she had to get off drugs so she needed some other crutch to lean on and landed on our culture’s favorite, love. 

i’m not saying there is NO love in this world, i’m not THAT pessimistic. i mean i believe for brief moments i have known love - the comedowns just not worth the high. i am in love with my career goals and am going to now devote myself furiously to bettering myself in my intended field until i’m the best damn social worker / clinical psychiatrist the world has ever known. and one day (although i’ll be damned if i ever let a man get seriously involved again) i will adopt needy children and i will love them with maternal love which IS real unless you’re a sociopath, which some people are but i’m not. so there is love. i still love standing in the rain. i still love animals enough that i got up at 7 am to sit at an event all day just to promote the nonprofit i run for their benefit. i still love my family in that they’re my family and so i love them in a familial kind of way way. i still love the color yellow, daffodils, fashion, traveling, my dogs etc etc etc.. 

but there is no such thing as “true love” or “luck”. chivalry and dapperness and courting and all the things that even made love kinda cute to begin with are all dead. and luck is just something we make up to make ourselves believe that we have some sort of control over our own destinies. trust me everyone, repeating mantras like “everything is going to be ok.” over and over and over did NOT save me this last time i believed in romantic love needless to say. neither did any wishes on 11:11 or even believe it or not smoking my lucky cigarette for the day. i KNOW RIGHT?! even the lucky cigarette thing is a lie!

wtf. it’s just like santa claus! modern society has fed us so many lies that we don’t even know how to distinguish reality anymore. but believe you me, true love rates up there somewhere ABOVE santa claus. i’m still more likely to find a fat man stuck in my nonexistent chimney than end up happily ever after. 

and so there it is. call me pessimistic, or immature, or say “just wait till your turn comes honey”, or any other douchey cliche about love.. but i’m done believing. i mean okay, it probably is real and it is out there somewhere because i found mine.. but it just hurts way too damn bad to go chasing all the time. so here i sit, spring again 3 years later, this time not quitting drugs but instead quitting love and luck. wanna know the sickest part? quitting drugs was easier.