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For Those Who Could Not Love Me Back

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We love a little too hard at times we were not supposed to love at all. We immerse in people, like paintings, that we were not supposed to even touch, sometimes because the paint was wet and sometimes because the painting was just so expensive.

But we defied the warnings made to us and ignored the doubts that we should have housed. We went on listening to our stupid hearts and we not only touched the painting, but we ruined it with our unworthy fingers, staining them.

The way we see love is not always the same way the person we love sees it. We put a little too much glitter in it and expect them to embrace it when it only annoys them, when theirs is the kind of love that is hidden behind doors, that is only whispers in the ear and not announcements in the open.

We laugh out loud, we show our joy and we hug because that is how we love, only to be told to not make a show of it; only to be told that love is too sacred a thing and ours, definitely, needs close doors to grow in. We are told that it is too precious to be felt by anyone but us and too fragile, just yet, to be out in the open. – Continue reading on next page

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Oh, the things we are told.

The things we are told by people who cannot love us back.

I welcomed love in every form when I did not know what humans could make of it. I accepted love given to me with reasons, excuses and adjustments when I did not know of the ways us humans could rig it in. I stayed quiet for as long as I was told to, until I did not. I stayed behind closed doors until I felt the shame in being hidden; until I could no longer understand why my love needed hiding when it was one of the purest things in the world. It was not a black spot on a white dress or a dirty joke in a children’s book that it needed hiding.

My love was the widespread smell of lilies in a field and the stream of bubbles pushed by a child’s breath. It was a lovers’ echo below the mountains and a lantern up in the starlit sky. My love was free and it was wild so I stopped loving with excuses. I am now proud of my embraces out in the open and my laughter shared with the one who is not afraid to join me in it. I am no more a black spot on a white dress or a dirty joke in a children’s book. I am the love I give.

I pity the people who are not blessed with the love they don’t think is worthy of sharing with the world. I pity on them for the moments of bliss and the absolute pureness of something so beautiful they are missing out on.

I pity on my older self for staying with such pitiable beings for a good part of my life. Once I knew that love was the open sky and not a dark dungeon, I let go of them and never looked back. I said farewell to the people who could not see why love needs no cages to grow in and why it needs the open sky. I let go of them because my love knew better than to die out behind doors. В – Continue reading on next page

Do you think about the things that we struggle to hide in our daily lives? They are all dirty, far-from-integrity and shallow things like lies, thieveries and acts dripping with shame. Does love qualify to be something dirty, far from integrity and shallow?

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Maybe there is shame in love, after all; not in my love but in the way they loved me back. Maybe there is shame in their love because it is forged for being indoors, because it is something they made for their entertainment and is destined to be eradicated once its purpose to entertain is fulfilled. Maybe they cannot be blamed for loving like that because the love the said they felt is not like mine, after all. Maybe they are not to blame, after all.

When we put our soul in love and get nothing even close to their soul in return is when we start seeing the world with new eyes. That is when we see the reality of the painting we were so immersed in, in the first place. We see why we should not have touched it; that it was not because the paint was wet or the painting too expensive. It was because good paintings are never hung wet and the ones that stain your clean hands are not worth buying.

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The people we loved too hard did not deserve to be loved at all.