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What is love? Is it a walk under a starry sky? The tears we shed for lost loved ones? Is it the things we'll do to keep from losing them? Or, maybe, the things we do to let them go? Is it to forsake our happiness for theirs, or to preserve our own? I dont know the answer. For many years. I thought I did. Growing up I watched the kind of man my father was. Seeing all the things he did. The pain he caused. The hurt. I thought, love, was the opposite of everything he ever did. But, that wasnt the answer. My first relationship ended with over a year of abuse, and things I never want to remember. And, my view of love, was the reason I accepted it. I thought that, if I endured long enough things would change. A delusion I filled my mind with. Since then, things never got better. Every relationship seemed like I was walking further down a neverending, dark, hallway. And, then I found someone. And, for once I opened my heart. In a new way. I decided to find my own right and wrong answers to what love was. And, for a little while, it seemed like it was working. At least, that's what I told myself. In the end I had just found new ways to blind myself to the abuse and pain. Something that was easy to do for me, because I had become so used to it. And, every attempt at love started and ended the same way. I opened myself up to the possibility that no one could or would ever hurt me in that way. They could never hurt me, in the same way, like the ones before them. And, everytime I was proven wrong. Eventually, I got lost in a cycle of motions. Saying things and doing things. Without thinking, or even feeling. And, at some point I just stopped trying. Because, I couldn't feel anything anymore. Because, it was easy to be oblivious to the world. To the pain. And, eventually, I found myself alone. Realizing that my decisions had affected more of my life then I thought. I had lost friends. Distanced family. I had, secluded myself, to a world where I was the only one present. I thought that it would take the pain away. Only to realize that the pain of being alone, was just as unbearable as the pain of being broken, tormented, and destroyed. So, now. I feel like I drift. In this space. Between what feels like the living and the dead. Craving human company and companionship. The connection that human beings make with one another, just to make their daily lives seem bearable. And, at the same time, wanting to shut the world out. Afraid of reliving the same moment. Again and again. In so many different ways. I constantly feel the pull to both sides. Like its tearing my soul in half. Pulling at me piece by piece, like shards of broken glass. It feels endless. Bottomless. Infinite. Full, but yet empty. I've been hurt, bruised, and damaged, so many times. That I will forever walk the neverending line. Between a hopeless romantic, and forever lost to love.
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