h2>Dating : The Impossible Burden of Love
I was dressed in white, touched by something pure
Death obsessed like a teenager
Sold my tortured youth, piss and vinegar
I’m still angry with no reason to be
At the architect who imagined this
For the everyman, blessed Sisyphus
Slipping steadily into madness
Now that’s the only place to be free
But here it comes, that heavy love
You’re never going to move it alone
Here it comes, that heavy love
Tattooed on a criminal’s arm
Here it comes, that heavy love
Someone got to share in the load
Here it comes, that heavy love
You’re never going to move it alone
After an endearing weekend with family celebrating my nephews’ birthdays, I drove home feeling conflicted, overwhelmed and angry.
I spoke with a friend the next day in tears, when I realized how all of humanity was so ill-equipped in administering this genetically pre-dispositioned edict to be the caterers of love on Earth. Why would an assumingly loving God give this responsibility, with the full knowledge that we would irrefutably fuck it all up?
I considered some “use-cases” I’ve grown intimate with:
My mother, born out of wedlock, and by every definition the perfect daughter to her imperfect mother, now expecting that same dedication to be reciprocated by her daughters in her last years. Her definition of love is loyalty, subservience, and obedience.
My ex-boyfriend, power hungry and chasing validation through status. His definition of love was shiny credentials and expensive things.
To my dad, a beer and my full presence in conversation.
More broadly, to Democrats, it’s alleged egalitarianism.
To Republicans, it’s also, alleged egalitarianism.
To me, it sometimes feels like an impossible burden.
