You did not discover love. So I would appreciate it if you stopped alerting the presses at the slightest hint of butterflies. Because more than likely, it’s just your insecurity teaming up with your loneliness to play tricks on you. Again. Gushing about a love you made up in your head, and painting us a picture of a happy home that doesn’t belong to you. You did not discover love. So stop flooding my feed with your broken heart, because I’m drowning in your crocodile tears. I’m tired of you preaching to anyone and everyone, but blasting your headphones when it’s time to listen. Building walls that take pebbles to ruin, then finding sanctuary in the arms of men you know don’t care. Love wants you to stop making it look bad. Dragging its name through the mud, and tainting its existence. Talking about how to keep a man when your man doesn’t even know he’s your man. You are not the girl that discovered love. You are the girl who cried asshole. And you are ruining it for the rest of us.
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