Love is such a poignant drug.
It is something you cherish for your entire life,
Until the one day where it is from your hands and from your heart untimely ripped.
What happens when you lose love?
Do you go on a four hour car ride through nowhere and drown the sorrow with music?
Do you cry about it until your tears can fill the Pacific?
Or do you simply thank that person for their time, and walk away?
"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."
That has been said to me over and over again.
It's like my guidance counselor telling me that when I take a trip to her office due to a bout of depression.
Again.
But, I strangely find validity in it.
I believe that no matter what those cold-hearted, vicious, egotistical ex-lovers have told you, you still exist simply to prove them wrong.
You have to show them that you are prepared to wear the blood from a broken heart like a badge of honor.
Like a sign saying, "I'm a survivor. Can I have another?"
Love is a fickle, funny, nonsensical, amateur, thing.
That's all love is.
Love is not about proving yourself to someone who has thrown your mentality of life away.
It's about being able to see yourself drenched in all that wasted blood from all those broken hearts and say,
"****, that looks good on me."