She'd have traded anything for just one moment of that anguish which they all knew so well; because, after all, wouldn't it be worth such torture, just to be in love? Short drabble about the different sides of love.
A discussion I remember having with a friend, once upon a time.
She’d heard enough of them to last her a life time; girl meets boy, they fall in love; something goes wrong, someone gets betrayed, a heart gets broken – it falls apart.
She’d seen her friends, devastated, immersed in the kind of pain that only the loss of love could cause, and she knew she was wrong; wrong for wishing, in the most obscene corner of her ever-cynical mind, that she could be in their shoes.
Wrong for longing for such heartbreak.
But, truth be told, she’d have traded anything for just one moment of that anguish which they all knew so well; because, after all, wouldn’t it be worth such torture, just to be in love?
Of thinking, knowing, if only for the briefest moment, that someone adored you, that you were, in that instant, their everything?
Of course, she’d never have shared her views with anyone – as far as they knew, she was just a regular teenage girl – slightly more bitter, perhaps, than her friends, but then, she had every reason to be.
Instead, she was nothing like the ‘normal’ façade she hid behind, choosing to spend as much of her free time as possible living in literature and films, basing all romantic expectations on the male leads from both, and therefore destined to be disappointed when none met her impossibly high standards.
Yes, what she wouldn’t give for a little heartbreak.