of.
“What is love?” she questioned, with tears brushing off from her eyelashes down to her lips.
“Is it a mere feeling that we created that we could be less alone so that we could smile in this world brimmed with somber whose clear motive is to meddle with lives that were supposed to be fairy-tales? Is it even real? Do I love you? Do you love me? How can two strangers with different pasts, memories, and blood share a bond that is supposedly so deep, so pure, that it heals a broken heart?
Is the heart even to be healed? Is it a feeling written by me in my book of dreams that I’d hoped would bring me any closer to the ideal happiness that is presumed to be? But for all I can recall, it left me in the dark. Searching, calling, pleading desperately for help. It let me drown in the interminable sea, with no solid ground that I could rest upon, unaware of the jeopardy that was posed in front of me. Hoping, and praying that someone, anyone, will come for my saving. And every time, I was proven wrong. Oh! What fool am I to believe that I am in love? Mortals don’t fall in love. They fall into the hands of the remorse cycle of breaking the heart that was shattered.
I don’t “love”, Lori. Never did, never will.”
She wiped her tears away with the end of her yellow knitted sweater.