cursed.

I've fallen in love enough times that im starting to suspect its nothing magical nor rare but rather something a lot more ordinary like breathing...I let you in and i let you go. I'm cursed with the cancer of never letting go and I'm starting to fear that's what limits my happiness. However, It's the days you're absent from my life that I can't bare. Damned if you do, and damned if you don't. I suppose i can only hang on to things I'm willing to lose, for I'll never be able to love anything more than something i miss and missing is what i do the most. Romance is dead. Yet, the ounce of optimism left within me hopes I'm wrong. Afterall, I've been wrong about much that I've assumed in the past.