I use to be envious of those who say they don’t fall in love, of those who can control their emotions. But then, what a colorless life. I fall as hard as a tree, every time. A new face, a new love, a new shade of sensation that I chase like butterflies in a meadow. And when it’s over, my life feels like a storm of disappointment only to see the sun peak over the clouds with hope. I used to be envious of those who never dealt with the storms. But then, they never got to see the sun either.