Love is dead, and throughout heaven and earth, I alone have killed it.
Love is despair. It drags you down, and suffocates you in endless melancholy. It derails your psyche, drains your energy. It makes you feel like you can’t do anything anymore.
Love is worthless. It’s worth nothing. It satisfies nothing. The only thing it gives you is false hope, that it will one day be better, then it takes that all away.
Love is pain. It hurts. To see them with someone else, to find out that you weren’t the one.
They say people love three times in their love.
The first love, is when you’re young, and inexperienced. Maybe you have no semblance of what love is, or you’re so young you believe it’s love. Maybe, one day, you’ll look back and realise that it wasn’t love, it was just longing. It was your first experience
The second love, is the most painful. This is the one that gives you pain, betrayal, challenges, and tragedy. You’ll find out more about yourself and what you want, and I hope that you’d find out what you don’t want. It will hurt, but eventually it’ll heal, and you’ll move on.
The third love is the most unexpected. It happens suddenly, taking you off your feet and destroying the barriers you put up. It comes from the most unexpected places, and turns you head over heels. They may not be who you think they’ll be, but this love is the sweetest of all.
I have loved. But it never worked out.
Love is meant for other people, just not for me.
It was never meant to be.
The stars have not aligned in my favour.
The odds were never in my favour, if you will.
I’m feeling quite weird. I feel heartbroken. But I also know that this will change me, maybe into a better person, and I’m comfortable with that.
I don’t know what to feel.
Perhaps…perhaps…