Drifting down the morbid sequence of everyday life, we seek out thrills that comes so profoundly the moment we need it. We will pursuit the temporary, knowing it will die before us. Momentarily indulge in the illusive satisfaction, knowing that is not what we're truly looking for. Tainting the meaning of sadness, manipulating it as a cover up. Because at that moment, sanity sounds reproachful alongside reality. These short-lived deceits seem so welcoming, and somewhere inside us we hear a distant desire. They sound so familiar, but in truth a stranger. A stranger that promises harm especially when you let them into your heart. That stranger goes by the name "infatuation".
How do I tell this stranger apart?
You know it is not when your breathes are taken away from you.
You know it is not when you can conjure no malice.
You know it is not when all others dull in comparison.
You know it is not when you can't give it up without killing yourself.
You know it is not when the thought of losing it overcomes the fear of death.
You know it is not when time fails to provide erosion.
You know it is not when it only come once in a lifetime.
And that when you know it is too late...
I will never settle for infatuations, because I can never be...
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