• _aradhya 23w

    My heart has never been broken, tab ye haal hai. Thinking of all the "masterpieces" i'll bring to this world when my heart actually gets broken :)
    I don't make sense some days. Bare with me.

    @samarlexis @dusky_dawn @jerry_21

    @writersnetwork AHHH AFTER I DONT KNOW HOW MANY WRITEUPS! Thank you❤️��

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    Love Ain't Love Anymore.

    Love is cruel.
    Like the hidden pain inside your heart which seems to hold on to you. Reaches inside you, grabs you by the waist, makes you waltz, and just when you let loose yourself and try to embrace it, it goes away.
    And it goes away in such a manner that it feels like as if it was never there with you. It feels like a dream, where you woke up to the reality suddenly hitting you.

    Love is hurt.
    Like the parallel lines you want to meet. But how can parallel lines ever meet? But it makes you believe they can, after all love makes you believe that you two were the parallel lines which will meet. Named it under "We will do the unthinkable things with 'us', love" but always makes you oblivious to this concept of manipulation.
    It makes you feel these butterflies inside you which make you feel good about yourself but then they start eating you from inside, making you feel much more worse.

    Love is irreplaceable.
    Like the sad realization which you want to drive away. It's the kind of song you have in your head, even if it's the one you hate, you know it's there. And you can't replace it. Because before the hurt, it made you feel so good, made you feel as if you are on top of the world and nothing could shatter you down. But then it does the same, and it does it so perfectly that you almost are in awe of the kind of destruction it brought you. Such a perfectly painted hue of blue, you are left mesmerized even by the hurt it caused you.
    Unfortunately, it made you feel the pain but it also made you feel the kind of things you would die to feel again. But nobody is like love. And love made sure nobody can be like love. Love made sure you thought of it as the best, and it made sure that even after you started thinking the worst of it, you'll never find what you found the best in it.

    Love stops being love.
    It does. It's not love anymore. Maybe never was. Maybe love was all in your head but you were never in it's head. Maybe love was a facade.

    Was love ever there?
    Or was it just in your head?