“The truth is, I should’ve believed that Love was never real for me the moment Avery left. I never got the flowers. I never got the compliments, the goodnight kisses, or the longing stares to let me know they were looking at me. I grew up with parents who bickered like no tomorrow. Threats to leave forever were constantly thrown around, and the sound of keys and a loud truck engine revving to prove their point was a sound I got all too familiar with. My environment consisted of nothing but glowing red arrows pointing to the “inevitable” fact that true Love is fictional. You only see that Love in the movies, and if you ever saw it in real life, it never existed for people like you. I’ve been told my whole adult life, the very little of it I’ve experienced at least, that no one would blame me for losing hope. I’ve been hurt an unbearable amount of times by all types of situations, and yet here I am, admiring the old couple smiling at one another on an old wooden bench on the far left side of the park. I find myself gawking over the same cheesy romantic comedies and still fiending for a personal rendition of 10 Things I Hate About You. I still like hearing stories from my mom about the good moments when she was married to my dad, even years after he passed away. I still smile when I see my close friends happy with their partners. I still get giddy when a cute guy looks my way. I look up at the same sky and wonder if my soulmate is looking up too. I’ve entertained the idea of giving up before, and to be quite frank, I put on this role that I hate Love, and I’ve given up on cupid. I pretend that my personal cupid lost his GPS towards my soulmate, or maybe he died on the way to him. I entertain it after every rejection, only to find myself craving the feeling again. I don’t know when I’m going to find Love. I don’t know if it’s a day from now, hell, years from now. To be fair, I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I couldn’t give a damn for Love long last. I offer a damn about Love in the present. I don’t care about all the times I’ve witnessed men who reek of alcohol and misery approach women hoping to have sex for the night, followed up with a hearty breakfast of regret in the morning. I don’t care about all the times I’ve sobbed on the floor over a guy who never had the brain cells to see how much I’m worth. Most importantly, I don’t care how many times I’ll witness modern romance plummet to the ground because of hookup culture or thousands of different names for things besides the term “relationship.” I know Love is true. I’ve felt it. I feel it when my eyes widen at every red and orange tree I see in the Fall. I feel it when I find a new coffee shop. I feel it when I laugh with my friends. I feel it when I hug my mom. I feel it when I hear a good song, even more, when I hear it for the first time. I feel it when I listen to Greta Van Fleet. I feel it when I drive alone, screaming lyrics for only me and the artist stuck in the music box to hear. I feel it when I lay on my red swing in my childhood home, and it’s cold and cloudy. I feel it when my best friends tell me they love me. And if I feel it with the small things, one day I’m gonna feel it for the big stuff. One day a guy is going to look at me and think I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. He’ll smile as he holds me tightly but soft enough, so I don’t crumble. He’ll drive to see me just cause he can. He’ll pick up a batch of flowers at the grocery store cause he saw them on a dress I wore. He’ll laugh at my jokes, even when they’re not funny. He’ll kiss away my salty skin after wiping away my tears and tell me my puffy face is still pretty. He’ll apologize, honestly, when he does something wrong. He’ll love me ‘cause I’m human, with flaws as clear as day, and he’ll love me more. And I’ll feel it even more then.”
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
stormborns
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
prguitarman
