Much of this likely comes from the recent breakup, but I felt this way long before we ever got together.
What is love good for, really?
Sure, it can make life more bearable, but it certainly doesn't bring happiness or make the pain of living go away.
Love doesn't pay the bills. It doesn't mend things that are broken, and no matter how real or true it is, it certainly doesn't keep people together.
Or perhaps it takes a certain amount of love to make things right. Having witnessed my parents' divorce, and having had my heart broken by someone who says that he still loves me, I wonder if there just isn't enough love in the world.
That could be a rather simplistic way of looking at things, but it's hard to believe that love can be real or true and hurt someone so much when it's supposed to bring happiness.
It doesn't make much sense at all.
So, if love can be real or true, why doesn't it matter as much? People hurt, hurt one another, and do insane things in the name of love. They live and die for it.
Perhaps it's my broken heart speaking, but I kind of don't see the point anymore.
Or perhaps the love I've known and witnessed really was neither true nor real.