Why love quizzes are bullshit
All the Cosmo quizzes will tell you that he is the one, if you let them. They’ll tell you that the time he stared into your face, hard, for thirty seconds, before gently tucking a hair behind your ear, that right there, proves it. They’ll tell you that coffee is always a good idea for a first date, and if he looks at your lips, he definitely wants to kiss you. They’ll tell you that you should define the relationship somewhere around the 5th date, and to talk about sex before you do it. They’ll tell you that if he’s a Leo and you’re a Sagittarius then there is just nothing to worry about, it’s a match made in heaven.
What no magazine will ever tell you is how to unplug the christmas lights he’s piled into your ribcage, lights that once made you feel warm and alive but are now burning through your skin. They wont ever teach you the important things, like how to get his smell (sweet smoke, clean sheets) off of your skin, or out from your nose weeks after the last time you slept there. They wont tell you that love doesn’t always grow up and out like a sunflower; sometimes it grows like bacteria in a petrie dish.
They don’t seem to know about the boy who will kiss your head and hands and cheeks and collarbones, but wont kiss your lips. They don’t know how to advise the girl whose hands are shaking so hard, they hurt. They can’t comfort you when you’re standing in front of a boy who should love you, but doesn’t want to. He doesn’t.
No matter how many trains he’s taken to see you. No matter how many nights you spent in his arms. No matter how many drunk “I miss you, come see me” texts you received at 4 in the morning. No matter how many people have asked you when the wedding is; He doesn’t love you, at least not in a way you’re ever going to understand, and no amount of vodka or chocolate ice cream is going to make you feel more like a person again.
Cry. Maybe he deserves your tears, and maybe he doesn’t, but you definitely do. You’ve earned them. You let your heart do backflips. And yes, it turns out it’s not very good at gymnastics, and you can’t tell if it’s landed in your throat or at the pit of your stomach, but its still beating. It’s still pumping, proving to you that you can survive so much more than you thought.
What the magazines will never tell you is that love is messy, and excruciating, and vastly different every time it happens, but it always, always counts.
Forgive yourself, and start again. When you are ready.
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
jacobvanloon
