Reyna Darriks
Reyna's favourite memory of you is the first time you ever told her you loved her. Don't you remember? It was right before school and you were standing at your lockers, chatting like every morning. She looked a hundred times more beautiful that day, a thousand times more enchanting and you couldn't help it, you called her name.
She remembers looking up at you questioningly, wondering why you suddenly sounded so intense. Her eyebrows had knit together in worry. But then, you whispered those three words. "I love you," you'd said. And you loved her, she'd believed. But you were too young to realise that these three words are not meant to be thrown around the way you did because what happened next?
You couldn't handle the three words. You couldn't handle what they meant and so, you decided not to. You decided to drop those three words and leave her waiting for you. You decided to let her believe in joy and beauty while you recoiled further away.
So, love, now that she's a merciless, heartless hate-spewing machine, don't blame her. Don't blame her because she was taught that love means nothing.
She was taught that it means nothing more than the pain of losing someone, the longing to find your way back to them and the heartache when you realise you can't. She was taught that it bred nothing but an endless cycle of impossibilities. She was taught of its falsity.
So, sweet, don't blame her for losing sight of love. Blame yourself for blinding her to it.
YOU ARE READING
Plastic Problems
RandomP l a s t i c P r o b l e m s Highschool has it all. Plastic girls with plastic crowns and their plastic boyfriends. They don't care about grades. They don't worry about their future, they're rich enough not to. But more often than not, plastic gi...
