Mediocrity

"

"There's a huge chance of a sweet-scented future for you only if you found the antidote to help you sober up from the sugar-coated poison he's been intoxicating you with."

I was amazed by your poetic style of telling me that I am stupid for choosing him. Your words fell like rain and shone like the sun and made flowers grow on the dead, dry earth that is my situation. But the petals you helped bloom fell one by one, and you shook your head minutes later when, all smiles, I said:

Sometimes, we'll find ourselves being too attached with someone that whatever they do to us, we accept, cry over and deal with, and end up still choosing them. In the most unfortunate circumstances will we find ourselves getting hurt a thousand times, letting it go a thousand times, too, and love that person a million times more. If we died of being too drunk from their poison, it would be a death that we chose for ourselves. Had there been a cure, I doubt if we'd run after it to save ourselves. Stupid, yes. But when you love like this, it's like poetry. Sad and deep and blissful and depressing and beautiful all at the same time.