It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
I would rather be a person who had never believed in the truth of love than to have become someone who lost all faith in its power. My tears for this becoming true are now crimson with blood. He hurt me. I now hurt. It is a deep pain that tears into my beliefs, my hopes, and my desires. I am a foolish child. I have loved more strongly and deeply than I had ever wanted. I gave away my heart and lost my head in the process. I should have thought.
I am now a broken-hearted woman. I am a soul who hates to see the past, but can’t look anywhere but at it. I am trying to find my mistake. My mishap. It floats about his head like a halo of fire. He is my pain. I can’t tell him how I feel. I can’t tell how I don’t feel. I loved and now I feel hatred because I fear the truth. I fear loneliness, but I am lonely. I fear hatred, but I lost in its grip. I want to escape from reality. Once I begged for death. Now I am dead in my heart. I am dead to myself. I regret this place and coming here. They say I changed. In some respects they are right. I grew more calloused than I had already been. Still somewhere deep within I still exist. I am simply an opaque shell of what was and what could be.