Love Is All Around You, Dipshit

Love is all around you, dipshit. Yeah, you, you limp-dicked son of a bitch. Stop your chicken shit rat race for once in your goddamn life to recognize it. Love is a truly beautiful, all-encompassing thing, you rat fuck.

Ain’t you ever had a dog? Ain’t you ever pet your fucking dog, lookit in the eyes and feel a sense of intrinsic beauty, awe, and wonder, you fucking moron? Fucking idiot. Fucking piece of shit, you ever just look at a flower? Just look at it, don’t even have to smell it. Just look at the fucking thing and marvel at the intricacy and organized complexity inherent in everything around you, shit kicker.

What, you think all this shit just happened? You think the universe just popped into existence without some guiding benevolent force of good? Motherfuckers like you. Motherfuckers like you can’t even see that consciousness itself is just love manifest in the form of the human experience. I hope you choke to death on your own fucking balls you lowlife you nobody.

You ass-rag, like you’ve never paused in grateful silence during a family get-together and remarked upon how despite your stark differences how jovial, nurturing and placid it is to be with family. Tell gam gam to bring some extra borscht next time so I can burn your fucking face off you ignorant dumbass.

Read a fucking passage from Pride and Prejudice you prick. Go ahead. Pick one. Any fucking one and tell me that the words don’t fly directly from the page to deepest unlit recesses of your world weary heart. You jackass. You COMPANY MAN. You’re telling me you’ve never been inspired by the delicate organization of delicate prose? Fucking Christ.

Ain’t you ever find yourself swapping a knowing gaze with some kind-eyed stranger you take the bus with?! You look at them, they look at you, and you’ve never spoken a word, but in that moment a spark emerges and your chest feels light and bubbly and you know no matter what kind of grievances you must endure that day, your mind will come back to this moment and you’ll feel a sensation of levity that cannot be described with words or thought you dickless chicken shit son of a whore I oughta stab your eyes out with a rusty fork and feed ‘em to my parrot.

What I’m trying to say is I’m glad you’re my husband. I love you, Steve.

– CL ’14

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