Love is for the weak and the gullible. Love is a coax to stupidity; a waste of emotion and mind; an internal deformity that isn't meant to last. It crushes you and makes you bleed like those stupid, little roses you sent to me. Those roses I crushed and the love letters left to rot. Love is for the weak. Love is for the pathetic. And yet love consumes me; it grasps me in its hands and doesn't let go. No matter how much I try, this love won't leave. And it hurts more than roses' thorns and paper cuts. Not another heartbreak. I can't take it, but there's nothing I can do. Love will never cease to exist. There is no medicine for this DISEASE
- me