Dear Diary
Ah. "Love". The word of the century you might say. Maybe the word of the decade. Who knows what Love really is.
No one.
No one does. Not me. Not you. Not your parents. You think you do. They think they do.
You think your in love at first. Then it slows down, and eats it self away. Very very slowly.
Love is a figment of our imagination. A "he said/ she said" argument between your heart and your mind.
Love.
Its a feeling. Maybe just a thought. No one is really in love.
No one can be in love.
Yeah. You see those old couple out and about. But how many do you think actually say "I Love You" still. Barely any.
And if they do, they say "Love You"
Yeah nice try, old people. That doesn't mean shit.
But maybe I'm ranting and raging.
But there is no such thing as love. But I guess I didn't understand that until now.
I thought I was in love with him.
And then he broke my heart.
And then I thought I loved his best friend.
Wrong Again.
So until the world can show me how to love, or show me what it is, then this word called Love,
MEANS NOTHING.
Let's just say, that I had a bit of a ride on the "I-think-I'm-in-love-train"
It didn't turn out very well. But is only the beginning of the story.
Here. Let me tell you all about it.
But do me a favor?
Count how many times I say Love in each chapter of my story.
That's how many times bullshit took over my mind and heart.
But remember. Make sure you count them. Ill need to remember.
Thanks again. Now let's get on with the backstory.
~11/2/15|3:32 PM|
