Love is A Strange Game

Some people seem to walk through it effortlessly, collecting memories like pressed flowers between the pages of a favorite book. And then there are people like me, who keep finding themselves standing among the ruins, wondering which part of their heart they misplaced this time.

Today, my chest feels unbearably heavy.

Not because I discovered something I was supposed to know, but because I discovered something I wish I never had to.

The truth arrived too late. It arrived only after it had nowhere left to hide.

And somehow that is what hurts the most.

I keep asking myself a question that has no answer capable of comforting me. If I had never found out, would the truth have ever found its way to me on its own?

Maybe that is where trust breaks.

Not in the mistake itself, but in the realization that honesty appeared only after the door had already been forced open.

Now my mind is crowded with questions. They arrive faster than I can answer them. They stack on top of one another until I can no longer tell which one wounded me first.

I am tired.

Tired of teaching my heart how to trust, only to watch fear move back into the places I worked so hard to heal.

The cruel thing about old wounds is that they never truly disappear. They wait quietly beneath the skin, and all it takes is one familiar pain for them to remember their way back home.

I thought I was building something new.

I thought this time would be different.

I thought love had finally stopped feeling like a battlefield.

But tonight, my chest aches with the weight of every disappointment I have ever carried. Every promise. Every doubt. Every version of myself that believed wholeheartedly and ended up grieving in silence.

Perhaps that is why this hurts so much.

Because it is never only about today.

It is about every yesterday that suddenly comes rushing back.

And maybe that is my tragedy with love.

No matter how carefully I hold it, no matter how gently I nurture it, I always seem to find myself standing on the losing side of the story.

Love is a game, they say.

And tonight, it feels like I have forgotten what winning is supposed to look like.