I wait in line at the supermarket and look around me. I feel like some chocolate and the specials catch my eye, so I step out of the queue and that’s when I collide with the man I am now in love with. So now I’m in deep shit, because love always gets me hurt in the end. And there’s always an end. I cried for months over the last guy. Not non-stop crying. Just, I’d tear up whenever I thought of him. Men are assholes. Or perhaps the true culprit is love itself. Yes, love is a fucked-up thing. It only brings temporary happiness before ripping your heart out. Then it becomes hatred, leaving its victims in a state of sorrow and a lasting feeling of emptiness. And just when you think that no one can ever replace the last guy you fell for, another one turns up. Out of the blue. You’re not even looking and then there his is. Fate loves to tease. Loves to play around with vulnerable people. And no matter how tough we become, we will always be vulnerable to love.
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