When you’re in love, everything feels like the first time. The sky feels awake and the sun seems to be shining just for you, and you’re happy all the time. Everything seems to thrive just for you. You find the light in everything, and you understand perfectly how the great poets must have felt when they wrote those stupid clichés. 

When you say “I love you,” you hear more than an overused set of words. You hear the magical ringing voice within you calling out to draw you unearthly close to someone. You spend your every waking moment thinking about them, looking forward to when you can see them again. You see others in love, and you smile because you know exactly how they feel. 

You live to see them, hear them, feel them, and after a conversation, you’ll be giddy for hours. When you’re in love, it is the greatest feeling in the entire world. You feel like you can do anything. Conquer any barrier no matter how great. You defy logic and reason, because he’s right and love isn’t logical. It’s not supposed to be. You wonder why you’ve never seen the world like this before, and nothing becomes as important to you as they are. 

You are ready to do anything. You are so hopeful. Anything can happen as long as they love you in return. 

And then it’s over. Your head caught up to your heart and once more took control. It stamped down the emotions and said, “no, this isn’t right. Leave.” And your head tricked your heart and soul into doing its bidding, just as it always has. And you do the smart thing, but it hurts. It hurts like hell. 

Every single waking moment that once was euphoric bliss has become a nightmare. You lie awake at night, dreaming, but you have no one to dream about. Your heart breaks every time you see their name or see anything that reminds you of them, and that’s the worst pain of all, because everything reminds you of them. Because that’s how love works. 

You reach out to them, trying to still be friends. But you both know, it’s not friends you're looking for. You take it out on them, asking why they couldn’t have handled this better. You can’t stand to see their face, yet you still want to spend your every minute with them. 

Your heart breaks apart, and as you slowly go through the process of recovery, looking for peace, and setting aside the old, the pain fades to a manageable level. Your mind looks on and nods its approval, having crushed the illogical and ill-fated emotions that had ruled you for too long. 

Then, you become a cynic. “Love’s not for me. I hate it,” you say. You don’t remember the euphoria, just the pain and your logical mind spurs you onward. “It’s not worth it,” you say. 

And that works fantastically, until someone comes and talks to you, bringing back the light in your eyes. You laugh until your sides hurt, you joke, you are in awe of them, you want to spend every minute with them. 

And then they say the word “love.” And you shut down. “I HATE LOVE!” you cry to your inward soul. And you writhe in the pain of what another has caused. You break apart, and you throw up your walls because anything absolutely anything is better than love. You associate love with pain. You don’t want to feel that hurt again. You don’t want to destroy your friendships… 

Yet still you smile when you see their name, every time that one song comes on Spotify you sing along at the top of your lungs. You want nothing more than for them to hold you, to hug you, to make a joke you laugh too hard at. 

But you break them apart. You destroy that bond. You tell him no, because you are scared to love again. Your mind pushes down your heart, crushing it beneath the weight of its “logical” thinking. 

And then he is crushed as well as you. And you are both hurting, and you long to say something else, and your mind is still pushing you down… 

But you can’t say anything, until finally your heart hurts so much that it repels away all reason and logic and any of this broken thing called sense, and you break away your mind. You push it away from you, throwing away the broken thing that has crushed you, and the love fills you up as if it had never left. 

And you call after him, but it’s too late. He’s moved on. 

And then once more, your brain is pulling back, your heart is retreating back within the shell it started in. You’re a cynic. You hate love. Because, man, being normal sucks. 

But still, even a cynic wants to love.