Let Me Prove It To You.

It can only be described as an atrocity, a travesty, I believe. Day in and day out, the cupped form of my palm aches- it's empty. It's unfair, unfair that my facilities remain dormant and laden with latent promise.

My heart beats;
it's ready to burst and unleash the heart-shaped arrows clad in ruby ribbons and stars that are sealed within it's thrumming chambers. The sharp tails of the arrows rake across the soft, blushing walls of the strained muscle which houses them, and it weeps blood like a faulty faucet.

(The blood drips steadily, akin to the tears which streak the soft, blushing fat of my cheeks.)

Cupid? Eros? Whoever dons the title of Matchmaker in this pallid universe, it's decided that they must revel in my eternal vexation and discontent. It seems that I've been subjected to the cruelest of pranks by their fiendish hands, for I have have been branded the sole heiress of this unique, amorous desire. Yes, it's clear that I'm the solitary recipient of Cupid's Curse- that there's nobody else in this world who will ever choose to lay beside me, or clasp my hands into a passionate interlock. I'm the only half of this 'match' that's been made, there's nobody else in this world who's destined to experience this love alongside me.

But, it's so wrong. How could this have been allowed?

It goes against the word of the stars. It goes against what I've been promised since my cherry-red youth.

(Where the hell is my fairytale ending?)

Everyday my body wails for a willful companion who I can share my overflowing dosage of romance with, I search for Cupid's heart-shaped arrows within the eyes of every new character I meet.

...I search for the same arrow which branded me.

Every day. Every night.

Wistfully, I indulge in the vivid, craving fantasies procured by my overworked imagination, which steep every inch of my unobtainable daydreams in rosy hues.

I swear to the stars that I'm built to love, but I'm merely unable to prove it due to my lonesome predicament.

I swear.

  I swear.

   I swear that if I had the chance to meet my very own soulmate- my destined lover- I would dote on them with ferocity beyond even immortal comprehension, for my affections would be untouchable by even the parameters of Cupid- no, the Cosmos itself.

Just let me prove it. Please.