I don't think you understand it. You have this bunch of love, so much love, you have to put it somewhere, its for your mother at first, but then the world takes her from you. you have to put it somewhere. Your best friend, the closest and dearest person to you after your mother and even before your sister says she would take it, you have to give all the love to her, because it has to be putted somewhere.
And then she'd be gone too. But this time the world doesn't take her, you did. You killed her. You take the life of her, of your love, of what you had with her, of what you had in all your little pathetic living. You did it all. And you have nowhere and nothing now. And everything's left is fake.
And then there's this person, you grow fond of him, you start loving him, he starts knowing you, you get close, so close that you think maybe i still have that love in me, i can still give it to someone, maybe still i have a chance to live, to love, to have something real, maybe, just maybe, i can be loveable...again?
But no. He leaves too. He says it will pass.
And yes it might, but the things it will take with it can not be measured.
