So Sad Today: Personal Essays

by Melissa Broder

I miss the sex that I thought was love, but you knew was just sex: a love story.

When you said you just wanted it to be a one-night thing, I kinda hoped you meant one night over and over and over until we die: a love story.

I want to be for you what you are for me: a deep influx of love and energy, from the beyond place, absorbed above us, untouched by the earth. And it will help us live our worldly lives

I want to say: was i real to you? could i have been real to you? why wasn’t i? I want to say: when r u coming back to me in the way i want u?

I feel bad about my struggle, because it is nothing compared to other people’s struggles and yet it still hurts.

Was I really afraid of hurting him? I don’t know. Maybe I was afraid of what he would think of me if I ignored him, that I was a “bitch” and not wonderful. Maybe I was just afraid of cutting off my supply.

IS FAKE LOVE BETTER THAN real love? Real love is responsibility, compromise, selflessness, being present, and all that shit. Fake love is magic, excitement, false hope, infatuation, and getting high off the potential that another person is going to save you from yourself.