the void I still don't understand the logistics of love and why one can hurt so much when their body is already suffering from it. And how a person can be so cruel as to take the living breath of a person, and give it to another as if it were trivial. But nothing is ever so trivial as the love that is spent on a summer of idle dreams. But once you fall into love, and you discover the warmth of the sun against your face, or feel the salt-spray in your hair, then you understand how unquestionably wonderful love can be. (So) you learn to dress your wounds before they are inflicted. With love, you build up defenses and obstacles and you lock out all that is possible, and you learn to be cold and dry and lonely. And lonely, after a while becomes the worst place in the world to be. I am still cold, like (that) desert, and now I have no friends to tell my sorrows to, and that is the worst part of love... the lacking.

what's it to you?
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