You frustrate me. You take me to breathtaking cliffs of joy and then leave me there- you know I don’t know how to climb down; you know I’ll have to jump. I keep trying to hold on to the best in myself, to rise above pettiness- you drag me down to the infernal depths of jealousy and anger and possessiveness. I used to be just fine before I met you- beautiful, in fact, in my emptiness. My void was my sense of purpose- it drove me. You weigh me down like a rich dessert, so delectable to taste, yet a plateful of gluttony, no less.
They say so many things of love, the way it uplifts and shows you the heavens- they say nothing of how it strips you bare, and lashes your skin with the air of indifference, and clings to you like a shadow, reminding you that you’re not alone. You’re never alone any more, you see? Do you see what that means? Cast your romanticism aside. It is the most frightening thing you will ever face. The inability to see yourself on your own. Run from love, my friends, as fast as you can. It snatches the solace of your solitude for all of eternity.