My friends dream of fluffy love with cuteness and fluff. They dream of princes and princesses with open arms taking them in. Soul mates.
What do I dream of? Don't really know, but I do know that I'd rather not have those cute little feelings. I'm used to the sharpness of desire and vain of my position to think that I am irresitable. I can't sustain a relationship with another person if they always agree with me. I need opposition, violence even. When I think of love, I think of how much anguish would run through my blood at the very sight of that person's face, the jagged lines of my lust. Flowers? Candy? Loyalty? No, I want it in the most brutal light, the most animalistic. I'm not afraid to raise my voice and let my emotions flood out in a gush of curses.
To me, this is the way love is supposed to be: wild and quick. Nothing lasts and nothing should last. And when I find that demon of mine, without a doubt I would be taming it, shaping it to my own will. After all, what is life but not a struggle of two forces?