I always wonder how someone could cheat on their significant other.
How they are so will to fuck up the love they’ve already built and nurtured with another person. Especially when that other person has been nothing but loving and loyal to you. How could you just betray their trust like that?
I wonder if they feel any sort of guilt when they look into the eyes of someone they cheated on. If the guilt consumed them and maybe even burden them or do they feel nothing.
“I use to feel guilty about cheating,” one of my best friends said. “But after awhile, you just feel nothing.”
I remember staring at him for a long while. I wasn’t sure how to feel. At one point I was disgust. How could he belittle someone who has given him the world for another body that will only provide him warmth and pleasure for a night?
“How long was a while?” I inquired.
“Maybe after two or three times,” he shrugged.
“Why do you do it?”
“Because I get bored or I lose feelings.”
There was the answer to most of the cheating habits. You get bored, you lose feelings, you find other that are more compatible with you or maybe the love just dies. Sometimes, love can’t be fixed.
Broken hearts will forgive but not forget.
Maybe love wasn’t made for everyone or maybe no one takes the time to understand the concept of love. But how can you understand a concept that is so complex? Especially since everyone has their own definition of it.
I just think that humans are scared to love. They’re scared to devote themselves to someone, especially if their intentions aren’t the best. I think the new generation sees love as a game. A game of who can sleep with the most girls or guys, who can break more hearts or maybe even who can complain about love the most.
I think they expect too much from a teenage boy who is getting paid minimum wage at a retail store. They expect too much materialistic things. They’re not satisfied when you give them simplicity. Everything seems to revolve around what you can give to them and not what you can offer them.
I think love is a simple idea that humans can’t grasp because we seem to like complexity. We like to challenge ourselves. We like to dig ourselves holes and attempt to get out of it without scars. We seem to enjoy the chase.
But what we don’t understand is that: humans are like glass. We are fragile. We are the most used and preferred thing in the whole world. Our beauty is breathtaking that sometimes you can only look and not touch because if you do, you could break it. It could shatter into millions of pieces and you wouldn’t know how to fix it. Even if you do, it wouldn’t be the same. There will be cracks and jagged areas. No one wants a broken item.
I believe that’s why no one wants to fall in love because you never know if you have the perfect glass or a broken one. You don’t know if it’ll cut you or if it’ll stay as beautiful. You don’t know if you want to build it up and try to cover the cracks. Or maybe you might even break it.
And maybe that’s why I have a phobia of love. I’m not a perfect pice of glass, I have cracks and jagged areas. I don’t look beautiful or shiny like the others. I just look like a broken mess that is ready to be throw away.
I’m not one to be sentimental, but from experience love will make you or break you.
There’s no in between.
You don’t truly know what a break up is until you lose yourself the minute they’re gone.
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