I don't know. Perhaps I'm the wrong person to ask because I've never been in love. Growing up, I always knew I wanted to be in love, I guess deep down inside I didn't think it would ever happen to me. The thought of love escaped my mind quicker than the amount of time I spent staring at that random cute guy on the street that I swore was the love of my life.
As someone who never let love (or the lack of love) bother her, coming to college threw me in for quite an adventure. From a stupid crush to a real date to a kiss after one to many drinks, every single experience had me infatuated with the thought of love. From the bad boy to the film nerd to the hipster of my well-dressed dreams, they all had me thinking about them as I went to sleep, but I would wake up feeling stupidly empty when things randomly fell through without a cause.
The bad boy decided to stop talking to me after a wine-induced snapchat threw him off. The film nerd decided not to tell me that he had a girlfriend. The hipster of my well-dressed dreams decided to fade away after telling me that he "feels like he has known me his entire life." Despite the fact that I was never in a committed relationship with any of these guys, they consecutively tore me down. One after one, they made me feel like the sky was blue, while they were plotting to turn it to gray. I refused to believe how someone could just tell me I have beautiful eyes and leave talk to me ever again.
Being infatuated with someone becomes a pain in the ass way before everything comes crashing down. I never let things run its course, and I never took a step back to just enjoy myself. I let my poor heart, more importantly, my poor mind believe that if I were to dive in again, things would be different this time. I once read that the reason why we hold on to things so tight is because we fear that something so great can't happen twice. Every time this clear trend would continue on, the fear that something like what we had could never happen again grew stronger, and the pain got worse as I went down the line of "suitors."
More importantly, I became more upset at how I lost myself along the way.
While dealing with a seemingly broken hearts, people never seem to realize that sometimes instead of wasting their precious time giving love to those who don't love us back, we should be saving that love for ourselves. You are the most important person in your life, and at the end of the day when that asshole with the nice hair and badass tattoos is on your mind, you need to realize how nice your hair is and how badass your tattoos are. (If you don't have tattoos, like myself, I know there is something else badass about you.) The one thing I do know now is that the love you have for yourself is the realest thing on this planet.