Disgrace

by Brittainy C. Cherry

“Someday, somewhere—anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.” -Pablo Neruda

Love was a messy emotion that didn’t walk a straight line. It worked in waves and loops of ups and downs. It was a screwy emotion that could somehow still exist amidst the ultimate heartbreak and betrayal.

You’re crying over someone who probably isn’t worth it.” “What makes you think he’s not worth it?” “Because. You’re. Fucking. Crying. People don’t sit there sobbing over someone who makes them happy.”

“People don’t need nice; they need the truth. I find it ridiculous that a guy has this kind of hold on you. Have some self-respect. It’s insane to give full control of your emotions to someone who doesn’t give a damn about you.”

Trust me, princess, no number of tears from you is ever going to make him love you,

I knew trouble was exactly what she was in search of. We were the classic cliché. She was the good girl next door, I the monster from around the block. We were perfect opposites for the perfect storm, and she was asking me to be her next flaw, her greatest mistake.

I was tired of him coming and going as he pleased. I was tired of him trying to tell me who I was and what I stood for. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to beg you to love me. I don’t want to sit up at night wondering if you’re loving someone else. I don’t want you to want me just because you believe someone else does. I want to be free from the chains,

Our choices defined us. We could go left or right. We could say yes or no. We could hold on, or we could let go.

“Love her fully, or let her go.”

“He’s the one.” He was so much more than the one. Even though we were apart, he still controlled my heartbeats.

I’ve witnessed a million sunrises, and I’ve seen the sun set. There were thousands of roads I’ve driven, and no matter which one I took, no matter if I went left or right, north or south, it seemed that they all led me right back to you.”

Because love—real love—didn’t mean always holding the same beliefs. It didn’t mean we had to see eye to eye on every subject. Yet what it did mean, what real love stood for was a mutual understanding. A respect for one another’s dreams and hopes and wishes and fears.