Because love is also a little sadistic

Caught myself smiling this morning. Not because I was happy, but rather because I found myself thinking about a certain someone. A someone, who I wish to spare the terrible clichés. A someone, whose memory gives me joy and grief in equal measure.

If I had to describe it, I would say that it was a lot like nostalgia; the bittersweet nostalgia of perhaps your fondest memory with someone who is no longer around. Except, the person is still around, just not a part of your life.

It saddens me to know that a few of you will know what I speak of, and that you often blame yourself for it.

A cesspool of regret and self loathing that you can never seem to get out of. Digging your way even deeper, hoping that miraculously, something will give way and you will finally be free of it. But you have to want to be free from it. The wanting is where I lack, and it is the wanting that makes me smile, ever so often; the knowledge that as long as I have not moved on, I will also not give up.

Giving up on something that affects you so incredibly, seems too foolish to me. Giving up on the someone who makes you hurt, somehow seems sane and completely logical in comparison.

There are too many things in life that you give up, often a little too willingly. Let love, for the lack of a better word, not be it.

There is so much to say, and a lot more to do, and like the fire that first draws the moth with its terrible beauty, and then without even an iota of remorse, removes every trace of the moth’s very existence, the one person you dare not live without, keeps pulling at you, maybe even without realizing what they will end up doing to you.

I do not know where things will go, or if it will all be worth it. For the moment, I think I will just smile for a while, for the smile keeps the face from fading.