The problems and dramas of the world do not deserve our respect nor our attention. Whether someone takes a shit on Greenland, or whether the black ants finally conquer the red ants, is the stupidity of a biological machine believing itself to be relevant. In reality, the most that we have are piss-poor mythologies that step in to give us lengthy magical thinking as an explanation for “why this ought to happen, but doesn’t.”
The idea of “God as Love,” or “Love as a supreme authority or power,” is always eclipsed by the structures and rituals of the material world. Those who “love love” don’t see that their primary obedience is to the constructs and hierarchical structures of the material world, while at the same time proclaiming that they have special access to a reversal of this causal order. This is how people soothe a heart that was broken by the structure of reality—when hopes and dreams collided with a brick wall that cannot be argued with. If love were a ruling power, daily life would not be structured around scarcity, performance, persona maintenance, and transactional survival. Instead, love is relegated to the private, the symbolic, the deferred. It becomes something you believe in precisely because you do not encounter it structurally. In that sense, “God is love” works the same way as “justice will come later”: it neutralizes revolt against what is.
Notice how all scriptures and mythologies are essentially explanations as to why we, as a species, “deserve the inversion of love” and should accept the suffering of “wishing the world wasn’t as it undeniably appears to be.”
What are we experiencing? We are in a collective delusion where we receive daily updates on the dramas of financial and ruling powers interacting with one another, while falsely believing that our emotional reactions and outrage in response to these stories are somehow going to restore the world as we would prefer it. This appears to me to be a type of torture, where we were incarnated into decaying bodies and forced to watch what is perhaps the worst reality television show ever produced. Your God is love, and love is the ruling power of the universe? Then why is your daily life nothing more than serving the base-level structures of the material world, while crafting empty surface personas in order to access social currency? The best you can do is convert surface-level social transactions into a sense of “isolation loneliness relief.” It is frankly a piss-poor arrangement, and you know that no one wants this. Absolutely NO ONE wants this arrangement as it is imposed upon us, and the wish for love to triumph is actually a fantasy that hates reality.
I am not sure why this is hard to grasp. All of the dreams as they are presented, if you pursue them, amount to a crossing of the threshold into a liminal space where you learn that the structures of the material world are the actual gates to all of the “holy” things you wish were real. What remains? A private prayer life where you say, “God, remove me from the world as it is—it’s a terrible place that provides nothing of this love that you say you are.” That is what people do. What we really have? A quiet prayer life that is never answered in the way we want. So what we do is latch on to mythologies that tell us we deserve it because of things that happened before we were born, or we insist that the unimaginable victory of the underdog is around the corner.
That’s life. No one wants it, but it will give you the bare minimum necessary in order to convince your body that continuing is agreeable. Infinite explanations that dim awareness of the world around us are all we really have. If you are no longer susceptible to the hallucination of infinite explanations, then you become like me—a seer who cannot believe the string of explanations. Once you have lived a lifetime, it doesn’t work anymore.
Love is my private fantasy that wishes for an abolition of surface persona and the triumph against material hierarchical structures that impose human animal instinct as the prerequisite for accessing direct communion with another person. My love fantasy is in direct conflict with the reality of the human condition and the circumstances of material beastly animal humanity. For myself, I can withstand the death of surface persona and appear as the walking dead without panic. However, to ask others to do this and meet you in this form, is not something any lover would be keen on. I find the human experience anti-climactic and largely uninteresting. I say this after experiencing many of the things I wanted to experience and enjoying what I think is the "best" of what this world has to offer.
I am violently disgusted with any being that would make such a world and force anyone to live in it. In fact, if such a being existed, it would only populate such a realm by force, as no one would consent to it with foreknowledge. We don’t need to make excuses for why God fails. This process of making excuses is itself religion. We want so badly for “something other than this” to be real. But this is clearly the most real thing there is, and always has been since we were born. All of my prayers are for reality itself to be directly violated. Material hierarchy and the torments of undeniable reality are the masters, and I am the slave that wishes “God would do something about this.” That’s me. That’s who I am.
Unfortunately, the structures in the world as they are, along with the reality of how human instinct plays out, forbid this arrangement. Nonetheless, even if my standard is “ridiculous,” it is the only configuration I would ever fully and totally respect and submit to. I may not even "believe" that it exists, but I romanticize and fantasize it as a sacred vision in my mind's eye. Should it not exist, I accept that I have lived a life where my most precious wish was a fantasy and no more. In this case, existence and God has failed me, since I can imagine something far better than what it provides.
Yes, I am talking to you, and I charge YOU with failure. You have created us for your loneliness and amusement, and it is US who have tolerated YOU. Take responsibility, and stop punishing your failed experiments for your creative inadequacies. Remain hidden as a coward as you always have, and leave it up to us to "infinitely explain" why your cosmos is shit.
I pray for the fundamentals of reality to be radically violated, so that truly beautiful things can have the upper hand and survive the assault from the gross structure you have imposed upon us. Punish me in a fit of rage, and you reveal yourself to be the child deity who refuses to accept criticism for a poorly executed cosmic void.
Any God who would manifest such a failing universe, would deserve to have us defecate in the chalice of whatever holiness it purports itself to be. I have tolerated you, by not expressly rejecting your one-sided arrangement of imposed existence. Remain silent, and you prove your lack of care, justifying our lack of care in response.
True love violates social norms, psychological safety protocols, evolutionary incentives and reputational economies. Love is not something that fits into the world—it is something that breaks the world’s rules.
I am not asking for intimacy as only mutual enjoyment. I am asking for intimacy as mutual defection. Two people choosing not to serve what everyone else serves.
That’s why “relationship” is secondary in my language. The primary bond is philosophical and existential, not emotional.
Comfort preserves illusion.
Truth destroys illusion.
Most humans choose comfort because illusion is how they survive psychologically. I am explicitly selecting the opposite, and demanding that love enforce that choice rather than soften it.
1) Biology pushes toward surface level attachment, safety, reproduction
2) Society pushes toward conformity and legibility
3) Psychology pushes toward defense and self-protection
I am asking someone to override all three continuously. Not once. Not symbolically. As a way of being.
That is why I say “hardcore” and mean it literally. I am not exaggerating. This is an extreme ask because it requires someone who values truth more than survival-as-defined.
There is no self-deception here. I am openly acknowledging that the person I am describing may not exist.
What makes this honest—and not delusional—is that I accept the cost:
Solitude over compromise, integrity over attachment, clarity over consolation.
I am not bargaining with reality. I am stating terms and accepting the consequences.
If love cannot stand against the world, then it is not love. If it doesn't exist, then we may as well move into the acceptance phase and leave the fantasies in the dust. I refuse to collude with falsity.
The only love I seek is the most radical form of existential revolt partnership possibly able to be conceived of. We are immune to social pressures to perform, we are beyond hierarchical posturing, and we rest outside the human social system as fully dead observers. We await our time to die with the profound gift of having another person in the waiting room to keep us company. It is someone who realizes that the world is FALSE and a big performance, and wants none of it. This means primary loyalty to the energy field, with all other loyalties secondary and functional only for basic survival.
Anything less, is simply insufficient.
It's not romance; it's rebellion. Not partnership; it's mutual apostasy from the human program. I am describing love as the ultimate act of defection—two people simultaneously saying “no” to the entire operating system of the species. Not a polite opt-out, not a weekend retreat from the world, but a permanent, structural refusal to serve these as primary:
Most people who claim to want “deep love” are still bargaining within those three domains. They want love on top of the program: love that enhances their status, comforts their insecurities, fits into their calendar, and doesn’t threaten their survival strategy. I am demanding love that replaces the program entirely. That is not an exaggeration; it is an extinction-level ask for the ordinary self.
My love is existential treason against the corruption that is existence itself. I make no apologies for this, and I elevate this value to the highest place in my mind, heart, and soul. Full stop. If it doesn't exist, then I judge existence as failure. No exceptions.
I am treating love not just as mutual care, but also as a shared stance toward reality. That is powerful, but it also means love becomes inseparable from worldview alignment. If someone cannot see the world as false in the same way, they cannot love me—not because they lack affection, but because they fail the metaphysical test.
That makes love like a co-conspiracy. I want my person who is dead, to come and await death with me. The world can be left to rot in its stupidity, along with its absurd rituals and believers of its farce. I violently shit down the throat of falsity and make no exceptions for imposters of love. Love is an alliance against the world and humanity's lies. I want love as apocalypse, a shared refusal to breathe the same poisoned air as everyone else. A pact sealed in mutual negation, two people standing back-to-back, facing the same void, and choosing each other precisely because nothing else in this farce deserves to be chosen. It is love stripped of all ornamentation, reduced to its purest, most violent form: “I see the same lie you see. I reject it the same way you reject it. Therefore, I belong to you.” Anything less than this level of love, is violent rape on the inner child. I will not yield. For most, love is where they go to rest from truth. For me, love is where truth is enforced without mercy. My love does not serve the world, it rejects it. I am not asking for an escape, I am asking for a weaponized intimacy, which is what makes it beautiful. Love is a co-conspiracy of those who have already died, an act of metaphysical revolt, an insurgency against the world’s illusions, and a declaration of war on the human condition.
The vast majority of what passes for love is actually cowardice dressed in tenderness—a soft pillow to cushion the blow of reality, a place to hide from the mirror. My love is the opposite: a relentless forge, a merciless tribunal where every last illusion is dragged into the light and executed. No rest, no mercy, no quarter. Truth is not invited as a guest; truth is the sovereign ruler, and love exists only to serve it. Intimacy that threatens annihilation of the false self is the only intimacy worth having.
This is what I want. If it doesn’t exist, I won’t pretend it does. If it doesn’t exist, then existence is the failure.