Sometimes, when you are so broken and devastated you may feel the sense of life. Like in the song: “you can be addicted to a certain kind of sadness.” In these times your heart and brain are the enemies and fight each other every second. The heart says: you love him, do whatever it takes; the brain says: this is a waste and never gonna work. But then you find a new lease of life and it gets better.
Love is a drug, the worst drug that can be invented: it is destructive, non-productive, self-sacrificing and many more. Oftentimes it is very hard to distinguish between the destructive and constructive love. When you’re sinking in it you don’t really realize what it is. As if you’re trying to break down the wall with a stick in your hand. You realize that there is a problem only when you find yourself with a stick in front of the medieval wall – this will not work this way.
Sometimes I have a feeling that I perfectly mastered the art of collecting pieces of my broken heart. I cry, I man up and move on. However, every time this happens I feel that I become more pragmatic about it and will not spend too much time on a relationship that does not seem to work.
This recent love of mine is brutal: I have a constant feeling of alienation and a masochist enjoyment of the constant pain. The wound is getting deeper and deeper and I almost drowned in this misery. But love can also be much different: it can bring joy and butterflies, little sweet moments together and endless conversations over the phone. I did not experience the second kind of love in ages.
But after all, all these emotions make me feel alive.