The duality of unrequited love
On the subject of unrequited love, which has haunted me for an eternity, there rests a fine line between those who remain hopeful, waiting for their person, and those who grow tired, awaiting for something, someone who may never come. We are so filled with love to give yet no one to pour into. Our cups shall continue to overflow, however, instead of the comfort that love brings to others, we forever drown in our dying hopes of experiencing a love which may not exist. Not for us atleast. Not for me. And in the end, one's fleeting desire to be seen, to be chosen, to be loved, shall be the reason our cups break, leaving us all the more broken and hopeless. How does one live a life absent of the one thing they crave so hopelessly. Perhaps time will narrate a different story, one filled with the love we are yet to receive. Until then, we remain prisoners of our own hearts, haunted by that which we see others experience so effortlessly, yet strong enough to endure that which we are burdened by - the heart of a hopeless romantic.