Compilations of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness

Lo(v)(s)ing

"The thing is," she spoke softly, "loving and losing are only one letter apart. That's because they're almost the same thing. When you're like me, when you go around loving everybody, you start to lose yourself. You leave a little piece of you with every single person you've ever loved, and if you're lucky they'll love you too, and you'll get a piece of them in return, to fill the little hole. But what if they don't love you back? What if you spend so much time investing in them, you give them so many little pieces, and the only thing you get are tiny holes in you, never to be filled?" She looked up, teary eyed. Her voice shook. "Loving and losing," she wavered, "are almost the same. Because when you love other people too much, you lose yourself. And then one day it's 3 o clock in the morning and you find yourself staring in a mirror, unable to sleep. And the eyes that reflect back at you don't look quite right. They're just a little too dim, too dull and hollow. You wonder where the light in you went. I can tell you, though. It went with those little pieces of your soul that you gave to all those people you loved, and the ones who didn't love you back took even more of you. So you're not you anymore. That's why I don't know who I am." She finished almost inaudibly. "Because I loved so many people who hurt me."