Only One
Life is strange.No, I don't mean it's strange in the usual sense. Not that it can be cruel one moment, then peacefully forgiving the next. Life is strange in that, the more you love something, the more it hurts. You struggle and it's like quick sand, devouring you and your hope. Eating you up until even your outstretched hand begging for another is swallowed whole. You sofficate in that darkness, that madness created by your so called 'love' until you forget the true meaning of it. What would it mean to you if that were to happen anyway? All love would be is that shallow pit where you're just so afraid to even move the wrong way.
It'd lose it's meaning and fade. It's burn in your brain what is should and shouldn't be and the insanity would steadily bring about sadness, depression. You would beg and plead, cry and shout out, only to have your own voice echo back. Your solitary voice alone.
In truth, that's not what love is supposed to be, but it's been twisted for so long. People are willing to give so much for so little in return, and they don't even realize they're breaking down because of it. They never realize it until it's too late. Suppose that's the case, and suppose you're the one drowning in that madness. Would you notice it? Or...have you already been engulfed by the drowning quick sand?
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