But as months went on, which eventually dragged on to years; I realized with a heavy heart that infatuation isn't love. Love is unconditional and imperfectly perfect, whilst infatuation is blinded by the sheer idea of being in love.
I wasn't in love with him.
I was in love with the idea of being in love.
And through this twisted dementia, I had created my version of this perfect person that I expected him to be, only to find out that happy endings rarely happen in reality.
In this world, people do not fall in love.
Love is unconditional.
People are not.
YOU ARE READING
In the Wake of a Morning Light
Short StoryMy collection of poems and thoughts that I thought I'd publish because I am painstakingly narcissistic.
