Support but not supportive

One day I think I will go out to the world and say some horrible home truths. And they will be so horrible that probably it will take some convincing to believe. But I have proof. And it will probably be quite a battle, but it will also be a very sad battle. It seems that I am not alone. And when you think you're so right, when you really go over and over everything and make sure once, twice, thrice, a million times, that you are really in the right, then that, with a big sigh of relief which lasts for a million semibreves, stops you from going out of your mind. Because you know you're right. And when someone else who has done your same thing understands how it is, then you finally know you're in the right, and nothing but in the right. And does that help the situation? Tragically, no. A big resounding no. And then you so know you're in the right and you can prove it because of the love-word and again you are made to feel bad for it. So then it's easy for the brain to start wandering... But until I keep writing in this blog of mine, I will stay sane. I know that. And if someone is thinking that I keep having crash-crazes about everything, they're wrong. I do not crash craze about shoes, about clothes, about hairstyles, or about men. I have a constant love for them. If I love something, I do, until it hurts. And it is still hurting, no matter how many blog entries (mostly silly) I have typed out here since November. It still hurts. I wonder about the word support. One Internet dictionary gives a beautiful meaning for the word. It says, support : to love, sustain or withstand without giving way. Lovely. Sadly it doesn't have the same meaning in our semitically-based language. The love-word is out. I thought it wasn't. It's just like one of those things you thought was so good, tasted, and suddenly discovered that the glazed red icing was rotten and you couldn't wait to spit it out. But then you couldn't spit it out because of the fear of what might happen. There goes the fear word, snugly, but present. And with the fear, love does a 'press Delete'. No more love. And it is so rotten because it is always done in the name of love. That is so important that it is emphasized in each sentence. Love? Yeah right, love for a paycheck maybe, love for a power-tripping post, love for making things look the opposite way they are which in turn means love for giving the wrong impression. That's all love. But it no possible love-future. No possible love. Because citing the reason of love is getting me nowhere. Now if I only had to walk down four steps, turn to the right, walk three paces, go up to steps and ring the doorbell..... I wonder if there would be support in there...