Fuck Love

Ever since I was old enough to understand, I have thrived off of romance and wanted some for myself. Now? I want nothing to do with it.

This year, I fell in love. With a guy who said he loved me too. We made plans and that got me through some of the worst parts of my depression. Suddenly, he decides he doesn’t know if he wants to be in a relationship with me.

I predicted it. I predicted that he would get sick of me, and guess what? He did.

And I am not doing that again. I am not putting my heart on the line for it to be crushed again. It hurts so much and I love him so much, but  he managed to switch all that off. If he ever loved me in the first place, that is.

So, I conclude that romance is a load of bullshit movies and books portray to sell. To get money. It does not exist. Maybe it does for other people, but not for me. I won’t meet someone who will ever put up with me, and you know what? They shouldn’t have to put up with me.

Yet another dream crushed.


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