Something that is bitterly laughable is the subject of love. It is the best thing, it is the worst thing. But, how do you decide what is what when you are caught in the middle of it? I've said I was in love before, and there was no denying I was. But looking back I wish I could've had the opportunity to fight for it instead of the other person making a decision for the both of us, cutting the vein while the rest of me bled out. I bled out. Who really knows what the right thing is in a situation until it has already passed and you can evaluate all you like? It's like all the cliche things that ever have been said about love: love is a drug, love is the devil, love is kind, love is the best thing you will have. How could something be so euphoric, and so painful? Hearing stories of how love succeeded or failed is as much a relevence as a picture of air is to a man who is suffocating.
Funny thing is, I knew this wouldn't be easy.
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