Stupid Cupid.

I fell in love, and I fell out of love.

Right from the beginning, we knew things might not work, but we thought it's worth a shot. Like Kiss sang, "it's got what it takes!" I thought I guard my heart well, so I would be okay if it didn't work, because Julie always expects the worse.

And damn, Julie was right.

Like so many relationships in the world, it didn't work. In the weeks that followed, I found myself alternating between letting go of the memories and grabbing them tight. Am I really okay giving up? Should I try to salvage it? Then again, do I have a choice? It's a two-way thing after all. I went back to our conversations to see what was so special about him. I wanted to realize that there was nothing and I imagined our potential.

But it was there - alive in our conversations, ebbing and flowing like the tide, pulled by a spiritual connection. It kept me going, but it has since been reduced to a feeling captured in words and spaces between the lines; a feeling waiting to be forgotten.

These few days, I have been overcome by a sense of loneliness. Loneliness has always been tied to insecurity for me, never from the end of relationships. I've felt hurt, relief, loss, guilt, but never loneliness. Mostly, I don't need people. In fact, the break up before this one made me feel liberated; I could have popped the champagne. But this one brought me to my knees. Out of a sudden, sappy love songs started to make sense to me, and I torture myself by listening to them. (Very randomly, I will get a mental picture of myself driving and crying the words out like Adam Sandler did steering his yacht as he cruised away from Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates. It's amusing because I can't drive.)

I thought about the difference between my previous relationships and this one. After all, this is my shortest relationship, and we spent so little time together I'm amazed it even mattered to me. Anyway, I realized I entered the previous ones wondering if it will work, I entered this one wanting it to work. I guess it made all the difference.

As if missing him wasn't enough, I found myself longing to be loved - an ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING realization. I hate it and it has been difficult to acknowledge that feeling because it is desperate and clingy and I'm the opposite of needy. I don't need people, remember? I adore my own company. But I started to wish I could spend nights cuddling with that favourite person. Or receive a text from that favourite person saying sweet nothings. Doesn't matter if life is hard, I just want that favourite person in my life.

I guess I'll have to hunt for another favourite person? *shudders at the idea - too much effort, and IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO WORK THAT WAY!*

At this point, the only thing I want to do is to pry my fingers open and talk myself out of feeling not-good-enough-for-love. I thought I'm a decent person? No? Well, I know it's not me, but when life presents me with a beautiful bubble and pops it with an evil laugh, it's hard not to question my worth.

Fuck you cupid, and your stinking arrow.