Once I thought that I understood love but how little did I know… now I'm alone and I know that this ending is of my own making.
I thought that I was in love and that it would last forever but now I'm able to accept the idea that those decisions that I made under my illusion of love were wrong.
This acceptance didn't happen overnight it has been a steady process… nor was this a conscious choice.
Just like falling in love, falling out of love or coming to the realization that the one that you love isn't necessarily the one that you get or want or even need.
I was in love once, or at least I like to think so.
I gave up so much for him.
Or rather, my belief in him took away so much from me.
I did cared for him in a way but I was unable to differ childish ideals of love from the passionate heart wrenching ache that I now imagine love to be.
The image I had at one time rings false but now I am too late to stop the resounding peals of my actions.
The young idealism that love conquers all has proved to be true but what no one wants to mention is that not many get to love.
They mistake love for affection and caring and compatibility. Perhaps everyone was wrong when they thought love was being happy or content or even hurt.
The line between love and hate is thin they say but then the opposite of love is not hate but a lack of feeling. I feel nothing now.
The miniature thrill that once came from the I love you's and the gentle hand squeezes and the rough kisses and the mediocre sex that once seemed life changing has faded into nothingness.
All I feel now is alone; it is all that I am.
I am a friend, a lover, and daughter and yet I am nothing.
Everything that once felt so meaningful and bright has now become diminished by the tarnish of age, experience and truth.
