Love is a Grenade

Who needs love anyway? Not me. I think about love the same as a grenade and I never look forward to having my heart blown to pieces by someone who should have never been holding it in the first place. I don’t need to hear I love you, like it’s some kind of life support that promises to make me matter, as you pull the plug on the promise you never planned on keeping anyway. No thank you. I’d rather you pull the plug first, so I can die without hearing the infamous I love you bullshit. It’s impossible to love me. If you try, be ready for war because my perfected ability to not let anyone get too close is like a shot gun blast you’ll never hear and I refuse to give you the power to make me turn off my safety. I’ve been ripped to shreds enough to know, love is a fight I’ll always run away from. Do I believe in love? Yes, I believe it’s a battle I’m never walking into again because the only reward in the end is a broken heart. It’s not that I don’t believe in love, but love has never proven itself to me the same way heartbreak has. Love is a promise, wrapped in a bomb and we all know how that ending plays out in a million pieces. Love is a fight club, where one person is always fighting harder while the other person just stands there and takes the beating. Like pulling your spine out in the name of love and giving it as a gift you will never get back. Love is uncertainty tying your hands, disappointment blindfolding you, trust kicking your ass while they all laugh out disregard until you projectile vomit the words I love you too. Love taught me about compromise and how the joke is always on me, it taught me that for better or worse needs to have a few footnotes. It taught me that losing yourself is the easiest thing to do and finding yourself again is nearly impossible, because you are hidden away in someone else’s shadow. Love showed me how to close down, hide my heart, not be my own person. It showed me how to be stuck, how to feel caged, how to want to run away. Love taught me how to say fuck this. It’s just not worth it to me. So don’t get too comfortable sitting next to me, I want you gone by morning.

Stephanie Bennett-Henry

#stephaniebennetthenry

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3 thoughts on “Love is a Grenade

  1. I’d have a word or two to say to whoever would willfully disappoint someone so, but they would pale in comparison to yours. And, as a much younger man, some windmills and broken lances ago, I would have heard such a warning off and done mad things to try to prove the speaker wrong (did do some). So, I won’t say “I love you.”, but your writing, ah, that I do indeed.

    Liked by 1 person

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