Love was a dirty word.

He had always known that. But he couldn�t help but search for it.

Or rather hope it found him.

He wrote in hopes of attracting it.

He sang in hopes of attracting it.

He lied in hopes of attracting it.

But it never came.

He didn�t know what else he was supposed to do.

Beg.

Plead.

Maybe.

He tried those things and only became a sad shell of who he once was.

He didn�t care.

Love was going to be his.

He was determined.