When I trusted another
with the most vulnerable part of my being, the risk of losing it increased exponentially.
To hope and trust she would never take advantage of that, is to love. Too many times have I trusted another deeply flawed
creature to be responsible with such power, and each failure took a piece of me
that I can never get back. I deserve this pain, somehow. This punishment is retribution
for the transgressions of my past life. Thus, I shall serve out the rest of my sentence
in this existence, alone; protecting what’s left of me from the potential abyss
of disappointment that would surely consume me, should I fail again. Why would
I risk the tiniest bit of what’s left of myself for a glimmer of hope of what I
know to be a lie? Love is a lottery and the chances of winning are just as
probable.
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