The Horror called Love

30 Jan

The reason for my horror must be that I’m again thinking that I can have Love. I’m forgetting that Love is a nightmare that I never want to have again.

I’m forgetting how Love hated me and trampled his rage upon me. I’m forgetting that Love isnt sorry about any of it since the apology was short and weak, there has been no promise of change. Perhaps that’s because Love has done the best it can. If that’s the case then I have to let Love go because I can’t keep paying the same price. I can’t stand the look of hate Love gives me, the nonexistent smiles and laughs, the accusations. I can’t allow myself to think that anything has changed even if there is no longer hostility in his voice. It’s not even what Love has done, it’s that Love has made no commitment to change. Sometimes I think that Love is dead, but Love for me has but 1 name and but 1 face, he’s not dead. I see the way he looks at me and hear the way he talks to me, if he were to claim to love me, how could I believe it? He never even proposed to me. I hadn’t met his conditions under which we could marry, but we married anyway. He never forgets his pain, making me pay for pain I didn’t cause, that happened even before I was born. I don’t know anyone on Earth that can afford that price. Perhaps the best of everything isn’t on Earth and I should look to the Sky with penetrating eyes for what is there.

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