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The Flip Side of an Enchanted Evening

So the basic concept is that men are assholes.  I know that you've all heard it before, and that it is the same old song playing on the same broken record, but sit back and think about it for just one moment.  You think you know someone, and then once the masks and the costumes are put away, when love is lost and you find yourself lost and delirious, the true nature of the object of your affection is shined on by an almost ethereal light.  Though you may see these things now, these things you told yourself were figments of your ever present and overworked imagination, now standing before you as a testament of a wasted love, it is still so hard to just let go. 

 

I am a trusting soul, although the wounds that other loves, other lives, have inflicted upon me are scars that will never truly heal, I walk blindly and openly into every single new experience.  I never believed that the sins of another should transgress the moment that we are in now, but having my heart broken and left to wither and die has left me contemplative.  Can I surely survive like this, without inhibitions or fears?  And of course the real question, can I ever truly love that way again, after my heart has been so shattered and lies lifeless on the floor of my soul? 

 

Once you have hit rock bottom, they say that the only way one can go is up.  With the way the wind is shifting, and the way my heart is aching, something tells me that sooner or later a shovel of sorts will be presented, and I will only be able to go that much lower.

 

Everything I have ever loved is gone.

 

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He whose name shall not me mentioned.