Love?

Ah, love…

They say it’s beautiful, right? That it blossoms, that it heals, that it gives meaning. They say it comes with flowers, smiles, promises. That it’s an embrace, a home, a peace. But… no one warns you that it also bleeds. No one tells you it gets sick. That it weighs, that it suffocates, that it rips the air right out of your lungs.

No one talks about the taste of blood in your mouth, about your body trembling, about your mind begging to stop feeling. Love has a strange way of killing… slowly and gently.

The nights turn into war. Me, the pillow, and the sound of my own head imploding. The medicine only delayed the chaos. And sometimes, when the pain overflowed too much, I let my body feel what my soul could no longer bear. It was the only way to silence everything…

So no, love is not beautiful. It’s not pink, it doesn’t shine, and it doesn’t save anyone. Love destroys. Corrodes. Tears you apart piece by piece until only what it wants to leave behind remains.

When people talk about love, I only remember what it took from me. Because loving, for me, was never living. It was surviving what almost killed me.

And when they say “happily ever after!”, I laugh. Because I know the truth… in the end, everyone bleeds.