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I
don’t know what a broken heart feels like. Or maybe I do but because I feel it
too often, I am incapable to differentiate it from other mere feelings of
sadness or hurting. But how can sadness be just ‘mere’? Whenever I’m sad I long for an overwhelming compassion
and words that are beyond the amorous movies, beyond this mortal earth. Perhaps
that’s what adds to the tragedy, wanting the things I can’t have. Expectation
has been my biggest let-down.
I’m
afraid of the very same things that I want. Because I don’t know if it is right
to want them. Happiness is best if shared, they say. But how about it when
there’s nobody to share it with?
Loving
someone just got uglier.
