Her Loving Addiction

𝐨𝐧𝐞.

MANY PEOPLE SAY THERE ARE TWO TYPES OF PEOPLE IN THE WORLD, HOPELESS ROMANTICS AND REALISTS. I, for one, was a realist when it came to certain things. Love, was one of them. I always saw past the world of make believe because I know it wasn't real no matter how much people tried to convince me as kid it was.  For example, in Sleeping Beauty, to me  Prince Charming didn't actually sleep with Sleeping Beauty at night because he rode off on a white horse to his mistress. Disney showed that he was there every night with her but I knew just like in real life it was most of time fake. 

Fairytales weren't the thing that got me not thinking love was real. I once did, a long time ago, or so I thought as my younger didn't know much about anything then, especially love. But then life happened and things got in the way. He  was the only person I was and would ever be a hopeless romantic for.  I used to want to have the perfect life with him; the white picket fence, the four kids, and two dogs kind of life. But I was young and naive on how love really can screw you up big time. On days where I realize how naive on love I was,  I wish I wasn't a realist because for the most part for people like me it means they've suffered through something to make them see past the lies and to accept the truth. 

They were enough hopeless romantics in the world to the extent  that I didn't need to be. I mean look at all the people who write articles about celebrities falling in love with someone. I know it's their job but I know some of them hate it because it's not true, they are just trying to start more rumors about people.  It was starting to become pathetic how much people cared about who feel in love with who. I mean don't get me wrong I have had fan girl moments and small crushes before on celebrities, I mean who hasn't. Then again I don't need to see the latest gossip on who's cozying up with who. Because frankly it's none of my business.

It was the fact that I knew first hand how much love can break a person. Not only experiencing but seeing first hand. Who know love could be a killer? Me, apparently. For example, my brother, Vincent, was broken by his wife who had an affair with a lawyer at her firm. Sure, my brother wasn't exactly innocent but I mean these days who is. His wife, Seira, had an affair with her lawyer because she realized that she only married my brother for the lust she forced herself into thinking it was love. Because apparently when she said "I love you," she meant " I love your dick not you."

Now, I wasn't some girl who needed love to feel good. I mean that's what's pleasure is for. It just wasn't the type of love I wanted, no, craved for. I wanted the type of love you can only receive from a parent. Every time I see a photo in our Hamptons' mansion of our family , I think to myself what a fucking lie this is. If you were a person who didn't know our family at all, which was rare because everyone seemed to know us, you could tell it was love. But if did know us at all, you knew it was fake. Thanks to the newspapers that had our names smeared on the latest gossip pages of what happened in our family. 

Maybe that's why I had become addicted to chasing something that my heart knows I'll never have again. 

Or so I thought....

*unedited*