I feel utterly broken. Love has ruined me forever, the having it and not having it. All the men I meet are broken because parts of them are still with their exes, leaving me and every other woman they'll meet with just bits and pieces of them instead of the whole we deserve. And, in turn, leaving pieces of us with them, we become broken, piecey people unable to fully give because we, too, are with others elsewhere. So if we're to conclude that the more we love those we can't have, and the more we give of ourselves to those who don't want us, the less there is to give to the people who would love us, meaning that the longer we go through this dating ritual, the more fucked up all the people we will meet will be. I can't go forward with this anymore. At only 28, I'm too exhausted to continue. I don't believe in love anymore. I don't believe in romance. I don't believe it will happen, and perhaps it never has. Perhaps it's all been an elaborate ruse designed by the lovelorn in ages past to make us want, to make us long, to make us yearn for the thing that was never attainted because, truly, SECRETLY, it was never attainable. We are all liars and frauds fooling ourselves and each other every day we go on searching for love that doesn't and can't exist.
Love is a lie we tell to give us something to suffer for because we feel it's heroic, noble, or even admirable.
Finally, at only 28, I can say that I don't believe in love anymore. Like with Santa and the Tooth Fairy, I have finally been given the truth: it was all make-believe.
And I can't pretend anymore.
Love never was.
No comments:
Post a Comment