another mindless rant about love.
So I wrote this last night because I felt kinda hopeless and lost about stuff.
I need someone to love. To care about. I need someone to cherish.
Love isn't supposed to be an unhappything. It's supposed to be this unbreakable bond between two people. Strong enough to break the foundation of the earth if it needed to. It should be an unforgettable experience, a permanent etching in our souls.
Why, then, is it tearing me apart? Am I looking too hard for love? Not enough? Is it some psychological drig that I've gottem myself addicted to? When do I know if I'm in love or just in lust? Is it a test to make us question whether fate exists? Is it a scapegoat from reality?
I've got a million questions about love. I want an answer.