The beginning of any relationship is the opening of a Pandora's box. We secretly develop feelings, we observe secretly, we rack our brains to make connections and have relationships. The sweet times lasted only for a short time, and we began to act self-righteously, try to control each other, be suspicious, and invade privacy. Murdered and victimized, as if love gave us the supreme power of judgment and execution. We overshare on social media and can't be honest with a loved one once. We were diagnosed with persecutory delusional disorder and Stockholm syndrome at the same time. We are both the bell-ringing Pavlov and his loyal dog.
Until the final reckoning, the unbearableness of the two was spread out flat, and each section was soaked with blood, tears and sweat. We finally feel the urge to kill, as if by eradicating that person, we can completely say goodbye to that part of ourselves that we hate.
But you know it doesn't help. Unless we eradicate ourselves, we will never be able to escape this vicious cycle.
Because we have never been loved once. We've been snubbed, ignored, treated unfairly, misunderstood and let down. We hit the wall in love, again and again. We hope too much to be saved, as long as there is a glimmer of light, we will jump up to hook, catch, and capture without hesitation.
Even if that twilight is the occasional moonlight refracted by the water in the deep cave, we still see it as a sign of rescue. We repeatedly fell to the bottom of the cave.
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