In the end, we only regret the chances we didn't take

It is a true life of privilege if you are always the one who loves less, who feels less, who cares less and invests less.

And the only time you figure this out is when that privilege is taken away from you. All your life you have this skewed sense of what love is like and what it should be like and how it should make you feel. Then one day, you find out how wrong you have been. You had never before tasted the agony of not knowing, the restlessness to find out if this is it and the determination to move mountains to make it work. Whatever ‘it’ is.

It is like absolutely having to remove the patch of scabby dry skin that is formed over a recent scratch even though it may hurt, you have to do it. Like having to touch the plate right after the server tells you ‘be careful –it’s hot’.

This is like the epiphany that Ranbir has in Bachna Ae Haseeno, when he decides to right his wrongs of the past, even though he knows it won’t secure his future with Deepika. But it’s when you see light to realize that the other person wasn’t crazy or obsessed, they were just in love. Because now you are the crazy, paranoid freak who has no self-respect left. It’s frustrating because you do everything you swore you never would, you are becoming into this person you used to pity, and everything you thought you were, that you had worked so hard to create is lost.

If you have any control over your feelings, there is a time when you have to decide if you want to cross that thin line between practicality and romanticism. If you have any control that is. This should be the most deliberate of all decisions you will ever make. Whether to snap out of it, brush off the feelings you fell into or to really go all in. Every action of the universe around you seems to be a sign of something. You look for these signs externally, because if you look inside you will see your heart staring back at you and it will scare the living hell out of you. You want to put off seeing that it is not your decision to make and it’s already too late. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.

The demand to be loved back is the greatest of all arrogant presumptions.

So what if you may as well be ruined from false anticipation.




p.s. yes I did cite Bollywood up there. Suck it. 

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