It’s said that when a guy sheds a tear over a girl, he will never love one like he loved her.
There’s something about your innocence, the way you’re able to love and trust unconditionally, and your simplicity that just makes me want to die when I see you, when I’m the happiest I can possibly be, with you smiling in my arms.
In true love, there are no sacrifices. Lovers aren’t meant to burden. Lovers are not meant to count each others favors or fault each other. Lovers are to uplift, enhance, enliven each other and give to each other without measure, in a way impossible by anyone else. When this fails, when a lover and a friend becomes a source of sadness and anger, love fails and love was not there -only a painful illusion of love.
What happened to love being eternal. What happened to love making everything better and love making everything worth it. No, love is an illusion. Love is for the weak, those who give a thousand percent of themselves away. Love is for the naive. Love is just a word. Actions speak louder than words, and your actions speak volumes about you. You loved me, but now I’m a bitch, a hoe, a God knows what else. You loved me yet after all this time you couldn’t recognize who I am. You loved me yet I wasn’t enough, I couldn’t keep you happy. It’s okay. Your love means nothing but a sham to me now. Now I’ve been hurt by this word, love —and it’s a pain beyond anything and everything else. Intense, burning, aching pain that spreads to the outer limbs of my body. So much that I can’t bear it. Maybe there is something like true love out there somewhere, but I’m just not destined to have it. I just don’t deserve to experience it. A loveless life, then an entrance to hell’s fire. I wish you the best in your life and hope you find true love, someone who can truly keep you happy. Someone who means more to you than a good time. Someone who you feel is worth sacrifices. Someone who you want to keep happy- not feel an obligation or annoyance. Someone who you can have true love with - not what we had.
When they crossed the street, he was carrying her dress for her—just like this.
When my uncle talks about my aunt, even the smallest minuscule things, I feel his love for her in his words. “She loves driving big American cars,” or “She wanted to see what happened every moment, every thing” while putting away his iPhone after recording me. Or even, “She works in the day and I work in the night, we take shifts.” I feel so happy to feel their love. I feel like I don’t have to wish them luck, because they already have the best of it. They have what anyone could ever want.
Grab a mop because your heart’s about to melt.
