No matter what you think, no matter how realistic you are about it, love is a losing game. It is hard, confusing, manic, all over the place.
There are a million things that make me mad that he's probably never thought twice about, and the same goes for me. I'm not sure I'll ever fully understand someone, because people are so intricately complex- it's both what advanced us as a species and what will fail us in the end. Hollywood always did make love seem so much easier than it really is. They sell lust, and everyone, even the smart ones, are fooled.
Through every fight, every argument, every shed tear, a decision must be consciously made. Is it worth it? Are they worth it? Things will be good sometimes, and probably shitty all of the other times. Through all of the mess we make of our lives with love, we have to decide. Who are we going to fight for? The answer should always be us.
The highest of the highs can meet the lowest of the lows in love and in life. The world today is not the one we were promised. Love dies here. It is torn to shreds, betrayed, and thrown away for dirty, unsacred things. But it also endures. We pick ourselves up, we mend our fights, some of us move on. The new rules are still not yet written, but it always survives another day. It feels old and new at the same time. The battle is eternal because for as long as we live, love will also survive.
I'm still learning day by day what love means to me, and I'm going to take everything day by day. There are still a lot of different crossroads to take, and a lot of roads to travel. But one thing is for sure, I'm still playing the losing game.