Not My Strongest Suit

If I lost sight of what I want and fell into a routine, would you still love me?

If I am unhappy, would you still love me?

If I had gotten a mental illness, would you still love me?

If all my hair and teeth fell off, would you still love me?

If I lost my health and became a burden, would you still love me?

If I lost my memory and intelligence, would you still love me?

If my face is badly burnt and barely reconizable, would you still love me?

If I lied, would you still love me?

If I hurt you, would you still love me?

If I hurt myself, would you still love me?

There are those that I would love no matter what. But on a day riddled with pessimism, I begin to wonder certain things about my life. The feeling of "nothing is so good it lasts eternally" looms and blows up into unproportionate size in a "cartoon-noir" sort of way. The idea of "Life is a transaction. If we lose our assets, we automatically become dispensible," begins to make more "sense", whatever that means. It's as if I saw the world through a crystal ball, and I see more clearly than ever what the secret truth is.

Trust has never been a forte of mine.