The difference between our same harsh “I don’t care,” we repeatedly say to each other out of anger
Lays under its utmost connotation
Yours bares the literal reality, while mine tells otherwise implicitly
The love I knew was a broken feeling. Ruined fraction of a human being. Shattered into words of self-deprecating and midnight thinking. The love I met was in a dream. The worst kind of wishful dreaming. With eyes closed and a full running mind, consisted of people whose existence is around but have been far way long gone. I met love only when I let myself to be taken over into the unconscious world. Romanticized by a dead logic and a handful of feelings that is kinda sick. The love I knew was pain. One-sided, unrequited, red blooded. The kind of pain that makes you want to scream with a tied tongue; the kind of pain when a wingless bird learn to fly. The love I knew was never wants more. Expecting miracle but swallowing every reality only to be awaken to the utter veracity, that love is not always pretty. It’s a monster ready to devour my entire endeavor. The love I knew was being on the other line waiting for him to pick up. Consumed wit...
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