Love. Pain. These are surely one in the same; or at least one will always, inevitably, lead to the other.
Today I have missed the love I have recently lost. Those simple times, the cuddles, the comfort, the laughs, the safety. It is all gone. Not even a friendship emerging, as yet. The pain is unbearable. Even though I can justify that we weren’t meant to be, that we were no longer happy, etc, etc; the pain of remembering what we had is as intense as the love I had for her. It’s exhausting; wondering if you finished it too soon; wondering if you’d worked hard enough at it; wondering how the trust could be broken; wondering if I’m just plain not the type to be in a relationship.
Why do we invite love in, whether seldom or frequent, in order that it may break us so?