Love

Love it changes and it changes us.

Love starts out brand new, full of adventure and fire. You think there is nothing in this world that could ever compare to the love you’re feeling for your first love, then the arguments start, nothing you say is right, nothing you do works; the heartbreak comes and the relationship comes to an end. You meet someone new and they’re called despair, they come bearing gifts such as crying, pain in your chest and the feeling of worthlessness. It takes time but you heal and find that you’ve become someone a little different, someone used to pain and you’re familiar with the sting so the next time you go to fall in love, you go in with a shield. One where you let someone only see parts of you, nothing too vulnerable. You don’t want to take the chance anymore.

Time has passed and you slowly start letting your guard down, it’s different this time. He’s different and the love you feel is much more passionate now, you’re older and wiser, right?— you’re under control and you remove the shield and let them have it all, pieces you didn’t even know you had. You start envisioning a future, and settling down. Picket fence, kids, tire swing. You did it, you faced heartache once, you knew what you look for and this one is not like the last; then before you know it, their phone is being hidden, your calls aren’t being answered and you find another girl has replaced you, another girl has taken the doors from your white picket fence and ripped the hinges off from your fairy tale.

This pain is much deeper than the first time. This pain tears you wide open, unable to recover. A new coat a paint you were unaware of; You’ve found yourself on the ground trying to pick up the broken pieces he made by yourself, getting cut while attempting to make you whole again. You find you like the pain and then you start digging deeper into these pieces that lay on the ground like the window pane he punched through. The tears seem endless, you could drown yourself In them, drowning… at that moment, it has a nice ring to it.

You’ve realized you’ve become bitter, hard and unable to love because love has been your best form of suicide. Every time you fall in love... it breaks you a little but more each time, you find more pieces of yourself go missing, like a photograph that has been torn and bits are lost to the wind; irreplaceable.

Growing up on the idea of fairytales and “Prince Charming” was such a lovely sentiment but what they forgot to include was Price Charming likes to drink whiskey. His anger gets the best of him and the castle halls echo her screams. She may have been a chamber maid but now she is a prisoner; to a man who drew the word love from her lips as he preyed on her insecurities, manipulated her into thinking: this is the best she could ever have because who else would want a chamber maid?