What love is.
It’s breaking, actually. Love means to break.
You’re in a world of happiness and equal affection for everything in general. Until this one person arrives, and has no business to. Breaking the rules you set up for looking at the world and for being a nice person. Suddenly, things change, your vision narrows to one person. You propagate things that never once seemed existent and you sincerely believe that everything happens for the good. You stay up on nights where you were best asleep. You hug a pillow tighter to offer comfort to someone who doesn’t know what’s happening when you have a nightmare. You forget where you end and when this person begins. Your forgiveness is unlimited, your acceptance and consolation is unbound. Your words are for him, your songs are for him, your prayers are for him, your dreams are for him. Your mind breaks the barrier of identity and of any self-consciousness.
You are his.
Oh the damage hasn’t begun yet. The difference makes him say untruths, like ‘I love you, okay?’ And you, you fool, you pathetic attention beggar, you pup in the world of wolves – you believe it. You start building castles on his words that don’t know why they were said, you start seeing a future – of hugs and warmth and understanding. You start breaking your breathing patterns to be with him. You are a goddess of love, a heart, grasping limbs, heated blood and a mind that works only for one person and that is definitely not you. You see feel, live only for him. You see faults but you let go of them, the thorns hurt but you ignore them, and when you bleed, you show him a wound. He kisses it but never heals it.
Your day is his, your night is his. He isn’t yours.
Then lightning strikes.
The darkness breaks. You shiver in the cold and you know his arms won’t protect you unless you pulled them around you. No words of comfort from him – you realise they were all a whispering of the life you infused into his heartless body, and he returned without so much as a blink. Your breath is now stuck in your throat, your eyes have dried themselves up and a knot inside of you twists at every word, every shape, every sound you saw him in. You deserve to have your belief broken, you want to die.
Fling yourself off a roof. Bleed yourself in solitude. Scream out of the loneliness that always was but you only discovered when he never picked up the rope you dropped too. And now, you use the rope to end the agony.
Was this love? No. Love should be better.
Love is when you realise that it was a sham and everyone, sometime in their lives is fooled. Some are fooled off their money. Some are fooled off their lives. Some are fooled off their beliefs. You have been fooled off your soul.
Love is when you realise that you could have believe the sham a little longer, and smirk and blow away the dust and walk a step further – away from him, away from all you believed, away from the ‘you’ you knew how to live with.
Love is when you let it go.