I stumbled upon this prompt, and it made me stop and think.
"What is love? To me?"
"What is love? Is it supposed to be happy and fluffy and 'good'?
Or is it always this hurtful, disappointing and scary?"
"How do I know if I have ever loved, at all?"
"If I hate that person, can I love them?"
"Can I love and hate at the same time?"
The meaning of the word 'love' kind blurs,
especially when I don't even know if love or hate my parents sometimes
I hate them and I love them
and then I began to think, 'hate' and 'love'
they were such strong words
how would I know if I have ever loved or hated at all?
How much emotion is love?
How much is hate?
How much is an obsession? I don't know.
It's so scary.
I don't feel like I am capable of love right now.
I feel so damaged. So out of skin and so weird even to myself.
I don't feel real.
How am I supposed to love if I don't know who I am?
I am emotionally unavailable. And I don't know how to fix it.
Many times I begged the star, begged to someone above to help me,
to perform some kind of miracle on me.
"Please make me whole again." I pleaded.
No one answered.
I want to be okay with just loving others.
I was okay with just loving others.
I was trying so hard to love others. To be perfect, for them.
Until one day, I couldn't do it anymore.
Something died that day I realized I was too tired for anything like 'Unselfish love.'
I just want love all for myself.
Is that so wrong?
I just want someone to stop asking so much out of me and
just remember my birthday
and just run to me, hug me, kiss my forehead.
I just want to cry and hold onto someone.
To feel the warmth. Because, god, I don't right now. I can't actually.
I can't feel anything.
It is scary.
I just want someone to never let me go.
I want them to be strong enough to be there for me when I cry,
and when I said I want to be alone, I just them to know that
it weren't permanent. I don't want them gone forever.
I just to recharge. No one seemed to understand that.
I don't want to be alone forever.
No one wants to be alone forever, I bet.
What is love to me?
It hurts. I think.
It hurts and it's an addiction that no one wants to be rid of.
We are so willing to be stupid, to be blind, just for a possibility of being loved by others. No wonder someone tries so hard to not notice anything weird in their relationship.
Life is imperfect.
Love is a picture perfect that no one wants to ruin.
Too bad, though, because no one seems to understand
that love has never been perfect.
Or maybe they notices.
They just, at the moment, don't want to care.