I sometimes think of this man
so desperately in love with a woman
that he constantly wore her scent
of this man who to forget her
fled to the far end of France
of this man who turned to drink
of this man who considered himself
the most unhappy man in the world
of this man who no longer wanted to live
of this man who played a role
that others played, play and will play
of this man that I no longer am…
Falling out of love is a terrible thing… In the whirlwind of discovery and passion, we shape the other in the image of our dreams and desires. Then time forces them to reclaim their true place… The lines blur, distort, shatter… the colors fade… For a while, we try to adapt, convincing ourselves that their flaws are charming, amusing, endearing quirks. But slowly, the ‘us’ fades, and the ‘I’ regains its strength… The mind takes over, eclipsing the heart. The children we once were become adults again… A phase of tolerance begins—we reason with ourselves, telling ourselves that perfect, everlasting love is just a utopian illusion, that we must accept the little things that bother us and focus on what’s beautiful in them… Positivity, the survival instinct of love, the Then comes the moment when habits take hold. Passive acceptance. Resignation. The other becomes a fixture in our lives, like a piece of furniture… until fatigue and reflection creep in. We begin analyzing everything, qu...
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