Empty (1/1)

I never knew true happiness. Perhaps it was lost in the rugged silences and in the dark crevices of daylight. Or simply in the layers of my melancholy, routine life, bound by threads of hopelessness.  I may never know true love. Not the kind one feels resonate from the depths of the heart, but the kind that devours the brain with the speed of neurons which ignite it.  I do not think I will ever fall into this kind of love, because I will never allow myself to experience the bruises and scars that follow along. What is the point in such hateful love if the end result will only throw your pain on the ground? Love connects with happiness, but love does not mean happiness. It is not so much the happiness that love brings rather than the feeling of satisfaction that you've created something with the potential to last. But if you are not happy, is it really love? Why do people cheat? Somehow it all comes back to a sense of carelessness in relationships. If you cheat, the other side of the relationship obviously is not enough for you. Or maybe it is you who aren't enough for the other half.  Some people spend their entire lives pondering and worrying over the reason the other halves left them. Others avoid the pain of thinking by driving their passions to other worlds. But the strongest search for closure and explanation, and move on. It is impossible to completely forget, but there is no excuse for not moving on. If you blame yourself, you'll go nowhere. If you blame others, you still will go nowhere. If all you can do is hypothesize, where does the action come in? When will you leave behind the torture? Perhaps it is better to let go, than to hold on.