​The Cost of Love

I tell myself to bear the pain so that she may live free; free from the world of pain that corrupted her. I do this out of love, but I must willingly succumb to the inevitable fact that she will never reciprocate the love that I have for her and that nobody can love her the way that she deserves to be loved — and that word, “deserve”, is something she can’t stand more than I. She is deserving of the universe and everything in it, but the world has corrupted her. The universe is indebted to her for all that she has endured, but she will always feel undeserving of love. I now share her corruption and her feeling of being undeserving. The only thing that I truly deserve is the suffering that I bear; naively acquiescing to the same empty pain every day, justified by the impossible chance that she will love me for enduring this unncessary suffering. A lame attempt at showcasing my undevouted loyalty and love for her falls between pathetic and romantic. They say to move forward; however, I will remain loyal to my dissidence. Every ounce of pain is worth the chance of her love again. I will remain patient for her to fulfill the empty promises she made to me. I will continue to follow these logical fallacies in order to maintain my sanity. I will continue to lie to myself and love her unconditionally, knowing it will never be reciprocated. I will continue to put her life and her needs above my own despite her negligence to my existence. I will do all these crazy things and expect nothing in return, risking my sanity, emotional stability, academic success, my future, and my ability to love. Because that is the cost of love, and for her, I’ll pay it in full.

But does my knowledge of my objectivity break the illusion I am creating for myself?

The only thing I know for sure is that love is never convenient. Convenient love is merely friendship and unconditional love flirts with insanity.