I can't see.

Love as blindness.

I can't see. I can't see anything.

Why does this creature paralyse the senses? I fail to recognise its function.
If human life is driven with an inherent need for survival, why is it that people
die for this monster? Love, they call it. They treated it with such kindness in
its naming. Endowed it, or endeavoured to do so, with beauty. Happiness.
Excitement. My body repulses at these words. Disgust. Torment. Fear. The
good can only be replaced by the terrible. The strong, as each day passes,
merely becomes weak. The triumphant will soon become the fallen. As does
time pass, accrues an unwavering, endless stock. They say love can overcome
all obstacles. Can it overcome that?