Dear Diary: The Hurt.

Dear Diary,

Love kind of sucks. Love is actually pretty confusing, and I’m not sure if it's supposed to hurt or am I supposed to feel as light as a feather. What I do know now is that my heart feels like it weighs 500 lbs, and breathing is becoming exhausting. Every time I take a breath the knot in my stomach grows and becomes more intense than the last breath. This is love. Right? Love is gasping for air even though I know it's supposed to be easy. Breathing that is. Inhale. Exhale. That sounds easy. Wow...just like love. It SOUNDS easy, but that doesn’t mean it truly is. Ok, I know you’re wondering where did all of this come from. It came from constantly feeling like I’m fighting a war all on my own. Like love is my permanent battlefield, and I’m a one man army. The soldiers that I thought were fighting with me decided to take a leave of absence. No. They decided to fight against me, but I think that they were doing it subconsciously because who in their right mind would turn against someone who loves them unconditionally, who stood by them when they felt their worst, who gave them hope when they felt hopeless. Sounds like someone evil. Someone who doesn’t understand that a love like mine is irreplaceable. At least I think so, I’m right. Right?

This isn’t what I deserve. I deserve for someone to love me for all the ugly and beautiful that may come with me. I deserve for someone to never think about giving up on me. I guess I can’t achieve this feeling until I love me right? Then God will send the right person right?

Have you ever felt so hurt that words can’t even describe it? Has your heart felt like someone stabbed it a million times? I’ve made my own mistakes in love, but my heart has remained the same. It’s becoming quite burnt out to be honest. I’m not a quitter when it comes to love. I can’t just wake up, and forget all the feelings I’ve had for someone like it never happened. I pour myself into people, and find myself feeling empty once they’ve stopped me from pouring. Maybe that's the problem. I care too much, but what's going to happen when I don’t care enough. Will I still be me?

I guess you can call me a love soldier because I find battles, and I’ll fight till I’m half way dead. Often times, I’m fighting alone I can’t name one time someone entered my battlefield, and actually went to war for me. Maybe I need a break from fighting everyone’s battle. Maybe I need to find the raw beauty in myself. Maybe I should stop being so happy for temporary happiness and stop falling in love with imaginary forevers.

- t.m.l