Wistful Thoughts

It Would NOT be my Pleasure

You hear on the internet, stitched into the fabric of youth: "it would be a pleasure to have my heart broken by you."

Pleasure means desperation because we are desperate. We're desperate for a single taste, just a little bit of what we know we will never have. This taste is our moment of happiness. A moment of bliss is exchanged for years of pain. But it's ok, right? 

Because people, the world likes to romanticize pain and tell me that it is ok. That my pain is valid but I should not cry. Why cry? Why shed a single fucking tear when you have flashing neon signs, open roads at 2 am, and cigarette smoke? That's what we've been taught anyways. So go ahead, listen to them. Repeat it all you want, pretend like you're a poet as if you enjoy the pain. 

But you don't. 

You and I both know that. It would not be a pleasure to have your heart broken. Stop romanticizing it. Take a dip in the pool of your tears.