It’s as though he’s been burnt upon my soul. A wicked reminder of the abundant love I felt towards him. A scar I can refer to when I feel the need to be in an agonised state again. Because I constantly need to be agonised. If my being is happy, I question it. I scrutinise its mortality. I essentially don’t want to be in a state of happiness, because the fear of losing it is more overwhelming than the bliss of having it.

He makes me feel like I’m crazy. Like I’m losing pieces of myself day by day; losing them to paranoia and fear. There’s nothing as scary as the prospect of love, and then losing it. Losing something or someone you love is probably harder than losing your own body parts. At least there will be prosthetics for your lost limbs. There is no replacement for a lost heart. There is no magical plaster for a broken heart, nor a glue for a shattered one.

I don’t want him in my life anymore, and I wish he had never entered it in the first place. He is my one great love. The man I did everything for. The man I compromised myself for, yet it was never returned. The man who made me feel like I was of no value; that my lack of worth was only compensated for by my fragile body.

It’s definitely harder to let go when you are fighting to hold on. But why would someone fight for this? Why would anone want to feel like they’re an invalid entity? Is toxic love an option, or is there a last chance saloon; one that will bring closure to your quest for love?

But, why are we on a quest for love, anyways? It’s not as though absolute fulfilment comes from another person….or does it? Perhaps I just haven’t reached that level yet. Perhaps I just haven’t met that one person who can make me feel like I’m ‘complete’. I was always under the impression that fulfilment- true absolution from emptiness- came about when one is truly happy within themselves: Only once this is achieved, can another person be brought into the equation. However, it seems that most people are jumping into romances like headless chickens, with no concept of what’s actually going on. They just know that they ‘love’ the person. I have to contest that blind interpretation of what ‘love’ is.

Albeit that love is relative, there is a finite definition for it: love is the force of nature that drives unconditional devotion and respect towards a person, accompanied by pure joyous emotions. Hence, the antithesis of love, is pain. Why would one ultimately choose pain over pleasure? It is because pleasure is too precarious. It may leave us; abandon us and kneejerk us into feeling its empty- yet totally abundant with darkness- abyss.

I guess love can be a temporary fix; perhaps a bit like dissolvable stitches- useful until the wound has healed. But always remember- a scar is inevitable. And it’s this very fact that has me questioning love itself, because I don’t quite know where I stand anymore. And not with him, but with myself. Now if that’s not a romantic crisis, I don’t know what is.

Always remember, however: Love is gentle and kind. It is not out to hurt or damage. When these negative emotions are encountered, we are dealing with attachment, not love. But that’s a story for another day. ”Tis been a blue Monday; I would like to maintain what scraps of sanity I have left.





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