I really wish I didn't love that girl the way I do.

Oth­er­wise I might not be *as* sad as I am now. But I guess that doesn't mat­ter. Because I *do* love her that much, and I *am* that sad.

Indi said that every­thing hap­pens for a rea­son. Methinks this is true, but to what end? Is the "rea­son" for me to sit here and suf­fer? Is the "rea­son" a real­iza­tion that I need to move on? The "rea­son" could be any­thing, really.

I'm really begin­ning to loathe the feel­ing of love.