Originally written 4/11/07. It’s a great beginning to a story I haven’t dreamed yet.
True love. Someone asked me not long ago if I believed in it. Oh, it’s definitely a nice idea, to think that somewhere, out there, exists your perfect mate. The one person that fills in all the empty spaces in your life. But we live in a dichotomous world, don’t we, balanced between light and darkness, good and evil. It stands to reason that if true love existed, then there must also exist true hate. Somewhere, out there, exists our perfect nemesis, the one person who manages to take even the happiest moment and piss all over it. So do I believe in true love? I suppose I have to, because I’ve assuredly met my nemesis, a blonde-haired, back-stabbing weasel with a politician’s grin. Bill is his name, and I’d gladly put him out of my misery if I thought I could get away with it.
Then again, maybe I can.