For a nineteen-year-old girl, it must be so tough to experience a cruel love that eventually tore her apart. A love that she thought was peaceful, beautiful, and calm eventually shattered her into pieces, turning into a madhouse, a disaster.
I have to admit, I have this tendency to be a hopeless romantic, where I fantasize about the love I hope to experience in this lifetime. I mean, who wouldn't, right? It was just one of my mere imaginations where I thought once I experienced it, it would be all rainbows and cupcakes. But turns out, it wasn’t. Love itself has no definite meaning, especially for someone who has experienced the bad side, the least of which I thought I would be a part of. The part where I thought I was the one for him. That's what I thought. But for him, all we had was just a facade and a phase.
Everything we had is still a fresh wound for me. It still hurts to see him continue his life without me in the picture. How all the beautiful moments together turned into a bittersweet feeling; those promises we wanted to fulfill in the future, like having 12 cats, turned into nothing but a teenage naive dream. Funny isn't it? How hopeless.
Weeks turned into months until I wasn't able to communicate with him properly again. What a sad ending. I was so desperate to win him back, over and over again, even though I already knew that it had to stop. I have to free myself from this. Surely, that’s how cruel love has been to me. How it turned me into someone I never imagined I'd become, filled with emotions and uncertainties, a version of myself I don't want to be.
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