The greatest irony of love; loving the right person at the wrong time, having the wrong person when the time is right and finding out you love someone right after that person walks out of your life. And sometimes, you think you’re already over a person, but when you see them smile at you, you’ll suddenly realize that you’re just pretending to be over them just to ease the pain of knowing that they will never be yours again. For some, they think that letting go is one way of expressing how much they love that person. Some are afraid to see the one they love being held by someone else. Most relationships tend to fail not because the absence of love. Love is always present. It’s just that one was being loved too much and the other was being loved too little. As we all know that the heart is the center of the body but it beats on the left. Maybe that’s the reason why the heart is not always right. Most often we fall in love with the person we think we love but to only discover that for them, we are just for passing time while the one who truly loves us remains either a friend or a stranger. So here’s a piece of advice; let go when you’re hurting too much, give up when love isn’t enough, and move on when things are not like before. For surely there is someone out there who will love you even more.

I can’t believe I’m allowing myself to go through this again. Flipping through old journal entries, it was more than clear how much pain I had to undergo last time. Yet this winter, I fell for those brown eyes again.

I know it’s not meant to be easy, but certainly, it’s not meant to be that difficult either. What happened to the sparks that flew, the songs that we danced to, the streets that we walked down hand in hand. Flashbacks stab into my heart as I attempt getting over you every passing day. I know it’s all in my head - the awkward tension and nonexistent conversations. If this was anyone else, this fear would simply not exist. The fear of possibly hearing those same apologetic words the second time around. The fear of spending another round of countless days regretting my confession. The fear of the repetition of neverending nights tearing over the impossible. Yet I am unable to measure out which would hurt more - hearing unwanted things, or never knowing the truth. I dread how you have the ability to steal away all the strength within me. I dread seeing bloodshot eyes in the mirror, wondering the worthiness of existence. I dread that nauseas feeling after every unspeakable struggle. However, as I recall back to the frantic thoughts present last night, there was a glimpse of hope. I knew, they all knew, that this time around, I am stronger. This time around, the fall may be deep, rapid and unstoppable but I know it will be into someone’s arms. Someone is there to catch me, listen to me cry. Someone is there to tell me a thousand times and over that everything is going to be okay. Because at times like this, another “you are strong” lecture is not what is needed. All there has to be is a “I will be there to be strong for you, with you” promise.