Nauseous

Falling in love felt a little nauseous. He would look at her and suddenly her knees would become weak and the world would spin just a bit. He was flawless, totally unaffected with seemingly an endless supply of confidence constantly at hand. He would smile and she swore – she absolutely believed that this was the beginning of the end. She knew what was coming – the game, the players. The constant switching between who sticks on the bench. But she decided to be fearless, she decided to dive head first with no looking forward or back. Fuck, she would regret it. But that didn’t matter yet, because falling in love felt a little nauseous and someone once told her it was a sign – a sign of good feelings, a sign of good fate. She should’ve known to never leave life in the hands of something so nonexistent. But that didn’t matter yet, because those butterflies felt like a metaphorical hunger; she heard once that it means it was destiny, that you met that one special person, the person that exists nowhere else. She should’ve known that you can fall in love many times; she should’ve known that infatuation fades. But he breathed words unto her that never seemed to leave her mind; he tattooed every promise right onto her hands to where she would never forget. I think someone told her once that promises are always broken, but she was fearless. She dove head first. Someone should’ve told her that it would’ve felt like breaking every single bone in your body while remaining intact. Someone should’ve told her that love isn’t distrust and lies and hurtful words. Someone should’ve told her that love isn’t supposed to feel so sickening. She figured these things out all on her own. She stopped listening to the optimistic false hope everyone seemed to throw at her. Life isn’t easy, falling in love isn’t fun.

 

— Haven’t written in awhile, so here’s this. Some more posts will be coming more frequently.