After a while, the heartache becomes comfortable and familiar.
It gets easier
to keep on with the devil you know than allow yourself
to fall in love
with the angel you don't.

It is only when your friend says that he probably just keeps you on the hook, that he probably just uses you as a confidence boost because he knows you'll always be there, and that you really do not want to be that girl whose desperate heart is so easily within his reach...it is only then you realize how stupid you've been, safeguarding your heartache like it's grandmother's pearls, and always wearing your sunglasses to avoid the glare of reality which always demands to be seen.

It's awful.

It is awful because you knew it the whole time, but you were able to cushion the truth just enough that it couldn't shatter your fragile hopes with its mean, sharp edges.