Love

Love does not exist. The idea of being “in love” is merely our own interpretations of what love is suppose to feel like. We get so caught up in all the things that shouldn’t matter. We try so unbelievably hard to achieve this happy ending that, in most cases, never comes true. We lose sight of almost everything, even ourselves, and for what? To feel loved in return? It isn’t real. Any of it. But I guess it’s easier to pretend that something like love exists instead of falling into reality.

Patience has never been my strength. I was in a rush to grow up. I was in a rush to experience everything I could. Always in a rush to fall in love. Although all these things were bound to happen, I couldn’t wait. In the midst of it all, I’ve realized that I never took the time to enjoy any of it. Everything has always been a competition for me. I just always had to be first. I’ve hurt people along the way. I’ve ruined almost every single “first time” I’ve had. I even lost myself half the time. Sometimes I wonder–things could be so different if I didn’t make those decisions. How different I would be. At times I feel so lost. I don’t know who to turn to anymore nor where to go. At times, I wonder if there is even a place for someone like me in the world. I feel as if my lack of patience has cost me my youth. I want it all back so bad. The innocence, the trust, the love I use to feel without hesitation. Now… now everything means nothing to me. I’ve lost myself and everything I stood for. Who am I, really? Just another person in a meaningless society that sees nothing but the physicality of things. Life’s too short but I think I’ve had enough.