This was written well over 3 years ago by an unnecessarily angst-y me.
"Today, I tried to write about love. About how love can change my life, how it can take me to places I've never been before, how it can make me feel like I'm someone else...
But sadly, I can't. I just can't get myself to write about something I don't know.
Honestly speaking, I've never had butterflies in my stomach. And I've never seen stars twinkle in someone's eyes.
I have never been in love. EVER.
Love must be something for someone else. It must be something reserved for people chosen by fate. It must be destined for those who deserve it. It must be for the lovers, the sweethearts, and the narcissistic.
I have no indulgence. And I have no aspirations. I have no love in me to give away.
And with that realization in mind, I won't even try to think that I'd ever be capable of writing about love----much more experience it."
Oh, the difference a few years can make.
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