We all search for that perfect love but,
“There is nothing rational about Love.
Love stutters when she gets nervous.
Love trips over her own shoe laces.
Love is clumsy, and my heart refuses to wear a helmet.”
Perhaps then, we were too foolish to think, to think that dopamine was love, that lowered cortisol levels meant we had both let our guards down. Perhaps what we felt was really a rush of oxytocin and vasopressin that transported us into the cosmic union that only the both of us knew, and after the star dust and rainbows faded, we couldn’t deal with the realities of who we actually were.
Do not think for a brief second that this is special.
You were the souvenir shop he stopped by to remind himself of his charm. A convenience stand of physicality and emotions, and he walked on by after admiring his reflection in the mirror.
But you are, so, so much more than target practice for kisses.
Stop, stop searching the crevices of another’s heart to tell yourself otherwise.
“You are what you love, not who loves you”