The Romance of Self-destrucction

 Ah, Self-destruction. Humanity's favorite love story. Forget Healthy Relationships, balanced live, or boring things like resilience- what really makes the crowd swoon is someone who can collapse dramatically and make it look like poetry. After all, why live if you can die aesthetically?? 

A poet who drowns in ink and wine naturally becomes "Brilliant". A lover who spirals into obsession becomes "Passionate". And obviously a dreamer who throws them at his impossible dreams and shatters is "Inspiring". How adorable, really, that ruins So many flattering Costumes.

And of course "Ruin is much more entertaining when it comes, wrapped in velvet and candlelight". 

But, Self-destruction is not nearly as 'beautiful' up close. It's just a person gnawing on their own misery and performing it for an audience. As, it isn't us- It's like Art! And perhaps the reason people like You and Me Romanticize it is not because it deserves admiration, no not at all, but because it allows us to dress our Own aches in prettier clothes. 

We like to imagine if we facture it in just the right way, people will talk about the beauty of it. Instead of the waste.

And Of course, don't worry if the edges start to fray. People will smile softly, while looking back at the memory. They'll whisper sweet words. The will call it Art. 

Such a sweet thing right? That even your undoing will be loved by someone. Admired by someone. 

Someone.  

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