Just a small free verse poem/diary thing I wrote about love in general


1. Love

Whoever says love is soft and gentle is a liar. Love isn't that way. It's terrifying. It might seem sweet and wonderful, but that's only for those that have never felt it. It starts with an uncomfortable feeling inside of you. A desire, but also a repulsion. It might improve later on, but at the beginning, it hurts. Your mind gets muddled, you lose your focus, you can't think straight. You ask yourself, should I go for it? Should I pull back? What should I do? If anybody asks you, you'd vehemently deny it, but you know you're in love, and you can't help it. 

And yet, at the same time, you wonder. You doubt yourself. Is this love? You ask yourself. What if I'm wrong? What if I thought too soon? What if I'm lying to myself? So you hide it. You laugh it off, and tell nobody. Your life becomes a play- acting like you don't care. But if he ever speaks to you, or comes near you, you began to blush and your voice goes up a pitch. You don't act like yourself, and everybody knows it. Or maybe they don't. 

Slowly, you might begin to give yourself over. You grow closer, and you dare to let yourself acknowledge how you feel. But you don't say a word to anybody still. Especially not him. You can't let him know how you feel. You can't let your friends know either. They will never let you hear the end of it- and you can't let them tease you over something that isn't true. Because no matter what you think, you will not let yourself admit your feelings- even to yourself. 

Love in the books is a lie. There is no such thing as 'true love'. There is no such thing as love at first sight. Love is a struggle, one you must fight for. And just when you think you have it under control, it turns around and surprises you again. You never can be sure, and you are afraid because of it. There's nothing you can do about it.

I can't say it gets easier- I don't know. Love is a hard thing to deal with. Maybe in the end things are okay, maybe they aren't. It's like a story- you never know how it will end. The only difference is that you can't control it. You have to take it- with all its promise and pain, and hope that it will turn out all right. Only one thing is constant- there are no promises when it comes to love.

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