Not Your Typical Love Story

Introduction

Bianca

Love.

Merriam Webster dictionary definition: an intense feeling of affection.

My dictionary definition: a concept that's nothing but a whole load of bullshit.

You can fight me on this all you want. You can try and change my mind and insist that love does exist, but doing so would only be a wasted effort. Because I simply don't believe in it - at least not the way most people portray it.

The type of love I'm talking about here is what most people refer to as true love. They say it sends sparks through their body, makes them feel like they're floating on cloud nine, gets them on this undeniably addictive high.

And that's usually the part where I'd laugh and call them crazy and tell them that it won't last - it never does.

After everything I've seen and from what I've experienced myself, I can gather one thing: true love just simply doesn't exist. I'd read something somewhere, probably from the tumblers Id always looked at, or the quote accounts I always followed on Instagram, but it was a sentence that I'd always used to define love, and found that's always what I referred to.

"Love is wanting more for someone than they want for themselves."

And so far, everyone always wanted more for themselves.

I used to be naive. So mind-numbingly naive that in hindsight, I should have hired someone to smack the sense into me.

Because as much as I'd hate to admit it, I used to believe in love, absolutely smitten with the concept of it. With the idea of growing old and creating a family with that one special person, your counterpart.

But the thing is, we don't even know what love is. How would we know? We're kids. Our idea of love is what makes us do stupid things at 1:00 in the morning or what makes us become infatuated. Our idea of love is what gets our heart broken and make our eyes tear and what makes our bodies quiver and our minds scramble.

Love sucks.

I should know.

My parents thought they found love when they were younger. And now? I can't remember the last time I saw them stand to be in the same room.

I thought I found love. But now my heart is broken, held together with nothing but a whole shit load of tape and glue.

It broke my brother and my mom and even me.

Love destroyed my family.

But we're healing.

And I refuse to let it affect me again.

Chase

Love had never been on my mind. Not really.

It was never a big deal and the concept of being romantic and sweeping a girl off her feet was just this grand absurd idea. Girls were girls and I was just someone that hooked up with a few. I mean, after all, nothing better than a good fuck, right?

I preferred my version of no complications. It was simpler and it was how I liked it.

I used to think that love was stupid, despite what everyone told me. Love was just this thought floating in space, a kite drifting aimlessly through the wind, without any anchor.