I am starting to understand what real love is. I once believed I fell in love with a swagger, a persona created out of sheer disdain for personal perfection. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but only when the truth has only been hidden under a barrel of lies. You try to redeem yourself, but that doesn't work. You wait patiently for the person to see the truth, but that doesn't work. You cry out to another, but that doesn't work. If real love doesn't hurt, why am I still hurting. Not from reciprocated love, but from rejected love.
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