Love…. Love is…it’s interesting to say the least.
Why? Why do we (sometimes) love, care, want, and always be with someone who we have romantic feelings towards, but at the same time we hate despise ourselves you feel confident and attractive, but look in the mirror too long or on a wrong day and you remember how ugly you are. My theory? We want to, we want to love ourselves, but because we’ve spent so long hating who we are and how we look we forgot the meaning of “Self-love” so when we find someone, someone who means something to us who in their presence we realize how special we forget about any problems we have because when we’re with them it’s like sadness is non-existent.
It doesn’t matter that they don’t know that you hold them in your heart that they help you, help yourself, or that they don’t feel the same way back because their kindness and personality just overwhelms you. It’s that beacon that you’ve been searching for the dim light in the distance the light switch everyone keeps telling you about.
My experience with love has been…. well it hasn’t been great. Love has proven to me that it’s beautiful like a rose but it spends its’ nights sharpening its thorns so when you let your guard down it hurts you.
It’s odd you know, so many of us have a friend who we’d date in a heartbeat, but so little of us wish we didn’t have those feelings. I think the worst part is when you start to like someone so soon. Maybe that’s just me, though. It’s hard.
Life has been great to me! I got an amazing photography gig (fingers crossed I get a great one when I move!) I met a great friend, but I like her.
The thing is for once I truly give zero shits about how gorgeous she is. She makes me feel…alive. The best part is that when she leaves that feeling stays. I love it.
The back-story of this article doesn’t matter because, in this case, I don’t want to like her I bailey know her! I just wish I could give her a poison (or just enough alcohol) That I could tell her my life story, tell her how I feel and that I get jealous that I hate myself for liking her so soon. That I wish I had a friend like her when I was younger, maybe then I wouldn’t have tried to escape this world so many times, maybe then I wouldn’t have these scars on my wrist. Because all along I’ve just needed a friend the type of friend you read about in novels. I’m going to miss this feeling when I move. I’ve never had a friend like this before. I hate the fact that I am moving and there is nothing I can do about it. Mr Love Monster, you are the one thing that has made me want to kill myself and the one thing that has made me keep on living.
Yours Truly,
Adrian C.
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