I’m all about love. I love love. I love the idea of love. I love everything about love. I’ve been in love, I had love, I lost love, I had love again, and all that jazz. I’ve always been a firm believer of the saying that goes, “It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.” So is it safe to say “Fuck love and everything about it.” now all because I’ve been there, done that, and I don’t want to have anything to do with it anymore? Does that make me a hypocrite?
Feelings. I don’t want any of it. I should’ve known better. I went back to being naive and that stupid girl who had the school-girly-crush-infatuation-whatever-you-wanna-call-it with someone who I knew wouldn’t give me the reassurance of a soft landing after taking that leap of faith. But I took that jump anyway, because I somehow thought it would be worth it. And it was, worth it, for a while I mean. I took the jump, and I was so far high up that I couldn’t see what was beneath me. It was all too thrilling, the excitement, not knowing… Until I got closer and closer and I realized I’m only headed for the sharp rocks at the bottom.
I was thinking with my heart, instead of my head. I let myself drawback from all the lessons I’ve learned the past few months. Rookie mistake. I know better now. (But wasn’t that what I said the last time?) I let down the walls I took months building back up. I let it come crashing down all because I was so naive. Never again.
Do I regret it? No, of course not. It was good, wasn’t it? For a few good months I was happy. I still am. No regrets. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing I had done things differently back then, just to save me the “heartache” later.
And love? Love isn’t even really a part of this. This isn’t love. But imagine what it would be like if it had been.