They never told me that falling in love would feel like falling off of a 24-story building, if it goes wrong, that you are always the heartbroken, never the heartbreaker. They never told me that “I love you” and “I’m lonely” are more often than not the same thing.
They don’t tell you that most nights you won’t sleep, and if you do, you’ll wake up screaming his name, or that you will stop eating, because you think maybe if you lost weight you’d be worthy of his love and attention.
They tell you that falling in love is special, and amazing, like nothing else you will ever experience, but how special and amazing is it when I’m lying on my bedroom floor, numbed by the pain he left in his wake, with blood stained wrists and the effects of alcohol clouding my thoughts?
They tell you the first time you fall in love, you won’t ever forget it, and maybe they’re right about that, because I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way his hands burned my skin when he touched me.