Sometimes I wonder if I set myself up for failure.  Perhaps I subconsciously attract those who will walk all over me or just eventually fade away.  That, or I guess it could be that everone does that.  Perhaps no one really cares for anyone else unless they need something, in which case, once the need is filled the "friend" is then discarded like an old sock, nothing left to perpetuate a relationship. 
Is there, then, any such thing as love?  ...Or is love only a pretty word to cover up selfishishness, conditionalism and lustful desires?  I generally tend towards the belief that the few who truly do love, dish it out to all as though ladlefuls of soup, eventually discovering that all have eaten it, leaving the disher alone and with naught but a hard, cold, empty pot, and an empty stomach.  They then learn to only dish to friends and family, hoping to avoid being hurtfully taken advantage of.  However, at times even friends and family can be the farthest from warm and considerate.  In this case, slowly but surely, all will be plagued at some point with pots full of cold, stale soup that each is afraid to share, so all slowly die of lonliness and starvation if not by food poisoning. 
Is there such a thing as love, or is it yet another foolish fairytale told only to lie to small, bright-eyed children who dream of a world holding in store for them a marvelous future, but who are destined only to get lost in the crowds busily wandering the dull, gloomy streets?  Those with enough reason and logic, or maybe just enough experience to rule out hope, might one day find themselves cruelly swearing off all and any allegiance, companionship and relationship, becoming instead invested and enamored with work... seeing as it is a more trustworthy and rewarding connection, thereby working themselves into the grave, depending on none other than themselves.

How, then, do we cure the world of food poisoning?  Is there any such thing as love?