every time my pen touches paper, a heart appears in front of me. i then write the word “love” down. multiple times. “love, love, love” is normally what i write. i draw a nice heart. a few more. shit. i scribble it all out, hoping no one sees. it’s too late. i’ve already seen it.

“it’s not real,” i write. “love is for fools,” i write again. “love, love, love” comes oozing off my pen like saliva from a rotweiler’s mouth. and no. it is not fucking pretty. love is not what needs to be there. written in front of me. i do not care for love. i am me. loveless. useful in the sense of words as something to play with. not love.

i write love.  i write love. does not exist. love is wrong. love is not for me. i do not fucking believe in love. i am no fool.

no. i am not a fool. i do not want your flowers, your candy. your funny, cute smiles on sweetest day. such a greeting card day. fuck you, no i never got a card on sweetest day. i don’t understand that day. i don’t want your card, anyway. i want to be alone. i want to love– love does not exist. fuck you, love. fuck you.

and i am not a stupid little girl. so i know that when my pen touches paper and it outlines the first side of the first heart, set in the middle of soon to be more hearts. i am saying, “i want love. i fucking need it right now.” so i erase it, because it bugs me. BUGS me. gets on my nerves. i am annoying myself with this love bullshit. i can’t stop it.

love love love lvoe loveh fjeklhvsurig. alove. fhasjgfhsjgsh fdoesn’t exist. fuck that noise. love.

and let me tell you about love. love come in all shapes of good, bad and ugly. love has dark eyes. they are not blue. they annoy me. they don’t open very wide. they don’t smile. love is cocky. like messed up, half-assed teeth. not perfect. love is not perfect. love is on medication. love is dreaming of someone else while it goes down on m– my love. love. does not exist. and i want to make it real. but i can’t. because i do not believe in love. because i don’t know what love is. because love is a cunt. love is ugly and fat and blind. love is disgusting. because love uses me. it wakes me up at three in the morning to yell at me. and then four in the morning to make love to me. love is afraid of me. love hangs up the phone while i’m talking. love is not concerned with anything but keeping my mouth shut.

all i know of love. all i know is what i see. and in front of me i draw hearts. i write down, “love”. i fall in love as quickly as i deny that i have met it.

i lie to you. because i do not love you. i lie to you. because i want you to love me. i lie to you. because i like you. and it’s getting cold. and i want to borrow your arm… and your jacket.

it would be nice to go to sleep with clothes on.