From the beginning of the time we are tried to inculcate that love even if it is experienced by just the sole one is the greatest thing the world could invent... People who have never experienced it dream about it as if it the most miraculous pleasure in the world. People who suffered from love dream about being poisoning with it again. Teenage girls reading wonderful stories about other's love dream being on the place of those beautiful ladies carried on hands by handsome men.

From time to time I'm asking myself a question why this infection sticked into our minds and still torments us with unreal goods and pleasures. Love is like an appetizing apple which tempts to try it, and when you bite off it you see the rotten core with ugly worm looking out of there. This worm is betrayal and meanness, the inseparable companions of love. And it can be not even the betrayal of your beloved one. You may ague - it's not true, love can be genuine. But are you sure? Isn't love the one more