Feign

Why does it matter what we think of love? Why is       
it relevant to feel these emotions at all? To enjoy it       
from afar is standard, it seems. How can you possibly       
care for, or know love without having almost died first?       
Only a seldom few of you have felt "love" as is described       
by others, perhaps a poet told you during a romantic     
dry-spell, verging on suicide, and grieving. Or maybe an actor     
proclaiming his heart through a barrage of artificial tears     
showed you. Or perhaps your parental figures showed you     
by accident when you walked in on them "making" it.     
Who knows any more than you do exactly what love is?     
Maybe it's what you want it to be, like some people's     
theories on Heaven and life, it is what you make it, or     
how you want it. Either way you're all pretty damn selfish,     
but that's natural, right?        
       
"Don't you think Shakespeare ever had a lonely night or two?       
He supposedly knew love like the back of his hand. But if you       
compare that metaphor to the one about Van Gogh, instead        
replacing his hand with his ear, then, well, you've got        
nothing, really."