People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places, like secret road maps of their personal histories, diagrams of all their old wounds. Most of our old wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar, but some of them don’t. Some wounds we carry with us everywhere and though the cut’s long gone, the pain still lingers.
And then, there’s another kind of love: the cruellest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. It’s called unrequited love. On that I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one-sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space!
Iris Simpkons (played by Kate Winslet) in The Holiday <via bitchville
That says it all, doesn’t it?
We always want what we never get…
Sometimes, the amount of self-control it takes to not say what’s on my mind is so immense I need a nap afterward.