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Only love can hurt like this. . .

I'd tell myself you don't mean a thing
But what we got, got no hold on me?
But when you're not there I crumble
I tell myself that I don't care that much 
But I feel like I'm dying till I feel your touch

The thing with love is that it sneaks up on you when you least expect it.  Love can be a slow burn or fast combustion (self-inflicted or otherwise!).  Have you ever experienced a love that tries to tell you that it isn't, so much denial from the source, from your own mind, but there is a depth to a relationship that you don't know how to deal with - so you're stuck in some kind of limbo until you realise what your next appropriate move should be?  When can you tell yourself that you have stopped caring, or noticed that they have stopped caring about you?  The thing is, pride gets in the way, ego comes out to play, so you never really know what feelings truly are in place.  I mean, do you even really want to know that love isn't there?  Are you ready to be confronted by that?

Only love, only love can hurt like this
Only love can hurt like this
Must have been a deadly kiss
Only love can hurt like this

You can only ever be hurt by love if you were able to name it as the primary emotion in the relationship.  Instead, you might find yourself being used by people who don't have the means to look after themselves, to enjoy luxuries that they might not have been able to enjoy without your intervention.  In the effort that people try so hard to not be what they proclaim - they actually dig their own holes and actually reveal themselves to be exactly what they claim not to be,  No kiss can be deadly other than that of betrayal.  When people find it difficult to be completely honest with you and let you know what's really going on with them, only then will you be able to process that it is their guilt that stops them from letting you go.  Even as the friend that they want to be in your world.




Say I wouldn't care if you walked away
But every time you're there I'm begging you to stay
When you come close I just tremble
And every time, every time you go
It's like a knife that cuts through my soul

Aren't you sick of being the nice one?  You always give in and make it easy for them to continue with their bad behaviour.  They accuse you of spoiling them and that because you've done so much, they feel overwhelmed with a sense of guilt, that they feel like they owe you.  When they are able to name their feelings, but quickly disregard yours - why is there a double standard?  Why is it that they can keep comparing you to someone you have never met - yet hate when you reciprocate?  I don't know about you, but if you are in a space where you are constantly guessing how time will pan out while you are trying to enjoy their company - it makes you second guess whether the company is worth the mind games or the effort to make sure they never feel alone because they have been shunned by the world.  It is time for you to stop putting your own life on hold and continue with your own legacy.

Your kisses burning to my skin
Only love can hurt like this
But if the sweetest pain
Burning hot through my veins
Love is torture makes me more sure

I hope that when you find the courage to finally leave the table when love isn't being served, that you keep your head held high and exit with your dignity intact.  When people continually try to push your buttons to test your reactions so that they can either entertain themselves or record your reactions in an effort to know you, or assume they know you well - then you decide when the testing is over.  If you enjoy being judged or made to feel like you don't know how to be in a relationship or some really intense friendship - then be prepared to speak up then bow out.  Any red-blooded woman knows her worth - despite what any man will try to mansplain to her.  I guess we're just sick of the double standards and trying to mould ourselves into the perfection that men demand, but as women, we continually accept the mediocrity or below par standards that men think is acceptable to us.  Call it whatever you like, but you know that love is real because you can tell for damn sure, only love can hurt like this. . . . 

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