Love?

You know (this is the time I start to write with this phrase), all these sweet promises and reflections on how you can be happy and with whom, they are all not more than pathetic words.
And when those who are strong and talented in your opinion turn out to be selfish egoists, you can not do anything with it, just accept, dear. There are no solutions here, except how quietly and peacefully do their work, not letting win the desire to jump off the roof.
It is impossible to simulate tenderness and intimacy. Relationships are easy to simulate - a couple of calls. sweet smiles, kisses, sometimes something closer, but ... not tenderness.
"All of us will meet the tide of tenderness except those who do not believe in tenderness."
I do not believe. Not at all and in anybody.
In itself, by definition, too.
It's easier to be alone than to pretend and wait for something.
As they said to me: "I love and be loved, but do not rush to rejoice - these are two different people."
I love, but I do not know if I'm loved or not.
What I thought was love for testing is just a narcotic dependence on smell, touch, whispers in the phone.
Love for yourself can only be called a child's desire to be around in public. Such sort of detskosadovskie hikes for the pen and sigh in the ear.
It's disgusting, just disgusting now.
And the feeling that bought, mixed up people and reflections, masks and mirrors.
Honestly, it's easier to be alone.
Do not expect anything from anyone.
I bought myself a ticket to the cinema, but inside is empty and very loud.
It seems, you can hear the thought of tight balls fall.