Such a bitch.

After a brief discussion with a friend of mine, I have come to the very serious realization (yes another one I should have made years upon years ago) that everyone in my life is love's bitch. And not just a 'hey, we hang out all the time cuz you's my bitch yo', but a full on 'get me my coffee, make me breakfast and do my laundry' type bitch. I mean, everyone I know is all caught up in the drama surrounding said emotion. And despite everyone always saying how grand love is, all it seems like to me is that it likes screwing with our heads and throwing around the major drama. The OC ain't got nothing on us. As my friend and I were discussing it, we came up with the analogy of "the edge". To me (probably not to him, but who really knows right...I'm not a friggin' psychic) it creates this image of impending doom, a great chasm in which all the romantics of the world are forever lost, some willingly and some not so much. The only hope these people ever have of returning to the world before the edge is claw their way up the steep and slippery slope. Don't get me wrong. Who's to say that the chasm isn't a beautiful place with streams and flowers and butterflies and long green grass. It's just in my opinion, and I do quote Jurrasic Park 2 here, I think it's better to "STAY OUT OF THE LONG GRASS!". Of course this is just the humble ramblings of a cynic who has never really experienced love, especially in the mind blowing Princess Bride/Moulin Rouge way (you know, without the dying, cause, let's face it, that would really suck). So here I sit rambling on about something I know very little about. But then again, how is that different from any other day? Touche my friend, touche. More strangeness yet to come.