(no subject)
Love is, I think, the most fickle thing on this earth. Not only the most fickle, but the most ironic and absolutely infuriating. Why do we allow ourselves to love when we know that it undoubtedly will end in grief? Why do we strive to find the one we are "meant to be with" when we know that all it will do for us is cause of absolute misery? Love causes heavy hearts. This I know, as I have experienced this myself as of late, and learned truly what the meaning of the phrase is. The heart is heavy with emotion and feeling for another, feeling so great that at times one wishes to simply burst into tears for the unbearable emotion which one bears. The one thing on this earth which wounds the heart greater than love itself is love betrayed. Love is trust, and trust love, and when one is broken, it is not easily mended or repaired. The phrase "broken heart" does not come from a physical state of being, or a metaphorical observation, but a simple feeling. The heart is not literally broken, but has been torn brutally from the soul to which it had fixed itself. I have come to the conclusion that the only way to live this life free of pain, is to simply defy love altogether.