In many ways more than one, the rules of life and love are almost always lopsided, ill-fated, tragic, and, well, pretty screwed up. I look around me and see different exhibits of the plights of love.
You could be enamored by a person you can’t have for whatever reason, the one thing that feels so right would terribly feel the otherwise because some norm that says such feelings are taboo. Or you could be one of those who hang in there for as long as they could despite being aware that it’s a mere fantasy. You’d become addicted to false hopes that make you feel alive, always choosing to prolong the doubt rather than to end the limbo that spares you from disappointment yet deprives you a sense of clarity.
You might be someone who stays in an unhealthy relationship, where you convince yourself to accept a love that is…
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