Two Cents on The Matter

There is a dollop of mindlessness in commercialized romanticism... and we are all stigmatized by its hyperactive ability to send out confusing symbolisms. In the long run, we all fall victim to it... so we reduce ourselves to pathetic little creatures waiting for love's reprieve - that effervescent hope that someday sooner than later all the hang-ups from past shattered hearts will heal... and he/she who means to save us from ourselves shall bring it in a glowing red box with gold lace ribbons all around.

okay, so maybe i'm becoming too much of a cynic. But really. is there anyone out in this semi-jaded universe who can tell me otherwise? Is there someone who can tell me the he/she does not want that kind of affection... be it from mom, dad, ate, kuya, honey, baby, sweety, and whoever the snugglefuck else?

Didn't think so.

Truth is, we all have it bad - that old feeling writhing inside the depths of that traitorous proverbial heart that tells us we could live better each day if someone, anyone, loved us enough to save us from our own misery... The only difference is that some of us just happen to do it secret agent style - covered and concealed.