If I Have To

Prologue

Love was an odd concept to grasp. No one knew what real love was. Even Mary J. Blige was searching for real love. And if Miss Mary couldn't find it then it wasn't real. As sad as it is to say, there's no such thing as real love. Or love at all honestly. It was a strange concept a random person came up with to give substance to sexual relationships. So people weren't just having sex with another person, they threw in that love word to represent a new level of intimacy.

Love was indeed a way of telling your partner that you want to keep fucking them as you are, but throw in that four letter here or there so your relationship could experience a few sparks and revival. In the end, real love was nothing. Nonexistent. Fake. Unreal. And you're probably wondering why I'm hating so bad. I wasn't hating, I was telling the truth. If you ask someone right now what love was, they'll struggle to answer. Then give you a whole bunch of physical, mental, and emotional aspects to define the word.

I still call bullshit. Butterflies in your stomach? Heart beating faster? Hands getting sweaty? Wanting to be around that person day after day? All lies. One lie after the next in order to give this word a real definition. Even article writers on Google gave you ridiculous answers. A set of emotions and behaviors characterized—yeah a whole bunch of nothing. There was no real, definite explanation of love, it's importance, or desirability.

That's why I say it's fake. My feelings were strong about this belief too. Does that mean I'm in love with hating love? Just maybe. Despite this rant I was doing, my opinion didn't matter anyway. Folks who believed in love tuned me out and continued living in their delusion. Telling me that with my nasty attitude, Cupid will never come my way and grace me with the abundance of love giving. Well, listen up folks, I didn't care for Cupid.

Fuck love.

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