I have this thing, this fatal attraction to things.
It causes me to fall in love with things far too often and far too fast.
I've begun to find that this problem plagues many in my generation, the current twenty-somethings. We think our things are so precious we become infatuated with them. I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell and Catcher in The Rye are our Bibles, Lebron James and Lady GaGa are our Gods, and we make our required pilgrimages to Bonnaroo, Coachella, and Ultra. This seemingly individualistic culture has become the religion of the masses, and we've all blindly converted. And for me at least, when I meet a fellow convert, I think it's some kind of divine indication we are meant to be friends, we are meant to be lovers, we are meant to share our religious experience.
Only everyone loves music. Everyone loves books. Everyone loves food. Everyone loves sports. And though we seem to believe our tastes are tailored, we alone love these divine elements, and we alone know of their existences, it seems we all just drank the Kool-AId. Because when we all love these seemingly brilliant things, it may seem like when we meet someone else who loves them as well, that well, it's just fate.
It's not fate, it't actually fake. It's false perception that because you and someone else both love adore watching Lost and the same Tazo Tea flavor therefore for some reason you and this person somehow belong together.
How do you know what to believe when your own feelings are liars?
Try lying for a change, it's currency of the world.
-Closer
♥ Lini.
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