You did not love me,
You just loved the fact that I was here for you.
You loved the attention I gave you,
You loved the fact that I would drop anything for you.
You did not love me, but god,
I loved you.
And I despise your books, I despise wisdom and the blessings of this world. It is all worthless, fleeting, illusory, and deceptive, like a mirage. You may be proud, wise, and fine, but death will wipe you off the face of the earth as though you were no more than mice burrowing under the floor, and your posterity, your history, your immortal geniuses will burn or freeze together with the earthly globe.