Love isn't easy.

It seems like it is, though.
You break up and move on, right?
No, not really.
 

In reality, I'm drowning myself
in as much ice cream and booze
I can until the thought of your name
no longer hurts.
I'm drowning myself in deprecating
thoughts about myself.
What's wrong with me?
Why wasn't I good enough?
 

My smile is never real.
Fake it till you make it, right?
At least, that's what the magazines tell you.
And I've read all of them.
 

When does it stop hurting?
When will the thought of your name
no longer shoot a dagger through my heart
and make me suffocate myself in the frosty air?
When will the sound of your name
no longer make me tear up and wish I was dead?
 

When will your presence no longer make me
feel like an avalanche has just fallen right on top of me?
When will you being there no longer make me feel
like my ribs are aching, rubbing against my skin?
When will you standing beside me no longer
make me feel like my skin is ripping apart from
the outside in? Like a thousand fires were surrounding me
all at once? Like I was in the pits of hell, chained up and
tortured by your name?
 

I still haven't forgotten.
And I guess that's what love is about.
Giving your all to someone else
when they give nothing back.