Crazy little thing called love, Thoughts



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You know how people say, ‘I wish I’d had more courage’ or ‘I didn’t love him enough. I wish I had’? With me, it’s the exact opposite.

I wish I’d toned down my courage, I wish I hadn’t loved so deeply. I wish I could just walk away and say, ‘Fuck it. Fuck it.’ I wish my heart, which already has so many bruises and wounds could, for once, be sensible enough not to like someone this much.

But the fact is, it can never be controlled. I could have so many precautions, I could step so carefully, I could restrain myself and avoid the same pitfalls, but in the end I would eventually fall. And my heart, which I thought didn’t have any more room for another heartbreak, turns out to have the capacity to love in a much wider sense than I could ever imagine.

And all of these, have made little things become so prickly it hurts so much. Walking past the right corner on level one, where I met him for the first time, is gut-wrenching that I refuse to go there ever again. There’s always a flicker of hope whenever I walk past the row of computers on the fifth floor, followed by a pang of disappointment when I don’t see him there. There’s always five seconds of blank stare when I reach for a bottle of Casillero del Diablo, as it was the wine we had when we spent hours talking at Riverside Park, and the mere sight of it in the aisle could sting me.

By God, I miss him. I miss him so much.

How could you still have the capacity to love someone so deep when you’ve been hurt so many times? How could you love someone this much in such a fleeting moment? And above all, how could you be so stupid to fall into the same hole, over and over again? Haven’t you learned enough?

Those are the kind of questions I ask myself, every single day.

‘You can’t take things casually,’ my friend said to me once. But the thing is, I can.

It just takes someone special to prove that there is an exception to that.

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