𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆—-𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚-𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

Playing Used to be (L.O.V.E) by Chelsea Collins

??? POV

It's hard watching from afar.

Watching carefully, learning young if the emotion every movie describes as a wonderful feeling is one that lasts eternally.

I was so young.

Young and naive with picture perfect image of love.

I remember watching my parents, young and curious to why they didn't fit the TV perfect couple.

Little me was so confused as to why they raised their voices and threw things at each other.

Why weren't they smiling, cuddling on couches to watch cheesy movies and going date nights every week.

Why instead were they filled with such a nasty emotion. So horrible it was a chore to even speak?

I never understood.

I don't think I ever will.

Their emotions were so raw.

So unfiltered as they spoke venom like a snake.

It was so loud I remembered covering my ears, my small palms forming a ball as I tried to imagine I was anywhere else.

I was in an empty park.

Then a forest.

Next I was in a bathroom stall.

Then I was at the beach.

But last place my brain travelled to was an amusement park. It was loud compared to the tranquility of the places I was before.

I felt tired. Drifting in and out beside the arcade that raved on.

This was a regular occurrence.

Oh how I wished to physically be anywhere else.

Perhaps permanently rooted with my grandmother rather than this hell hole.

Was it normal to feel so afraid of love?

This wasn't love though, was it?

Was this the true emotion people feel?

The reality of what love truly is.

So unhealthy and suffocating.

I had never been in love.

I have never felt this emotion so maybe that's why I'm so afraid?

But I've witnessed what it does.

It turns you crazy.

Turns you to the brink of insanity right?

This is love right?

How can my heart ache in fear like I've experienced it?

Maybe my mothers heart was torn, ripped from her chest and broken right in-front of me. But Instead, my heart was tainted, stained with her blood.

I'm only an onlooker.

An innocent person watching.

Never having experienced love, I learnt a lot by my parents example.

I guess what I've learnt is watching a heartbreak doesn't make yours clean.

An:

Who do you think this is?

Also it's pissing me off that I try to be aesthetic and shit with the chapter pictures AND THEY TURN BLACK! Like why wtf!!! Is that the same for everyone reading or am I going insane?