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i wish i could do better by you ’cause that’s what you deserve.

9/2/10 03:45 - i wish i could do better by you ’cause that’s what you deserve.

you can never love any­one enough. your love can­not fix any­thing, nor does it start the heal­ing process. love does not stop time; it barely even man­ages to slow it down — and often times, this is not enough. love will not help any­one see the good in you. you can­not love some­one into apol­o­giz­ing, back­ing down, or com­pro­mis­ing. love does not uncover the details because it lives in the empty spaces between. love will do its best to con­vince you oth­er­wise though, but trust me: you can never love any­one enough. they have to love you.

but love tends to be a pack­rat — col­lect­ing things that long should have been tossed away. it will make you see things, hear things, under­stand things that have no basis in real­ity, leav­ing it up to you to tell the dif­fer­ence. it will make you beg. it will make you lis­ten to really awful songs and write down ter­ri­ble things on crum­pled restau­rant nap­kins. it can make you sac­ri­fice. it will, undoubt­edly, ruin a good movie and make a bad one oscar-worthy. it can also make you give up your self-respect, and once you lose that, you have lost every­thing. love is your one-way street toward obliv­ion. that is, unless they love you back. oth­er­wise it is noth­ing more than a series of events that you once lived through.

with that said, you should be care­ful with what you are will­ing to give up — the human con­di­tion appears to be keen on forc­ing you to make the most ago­niz­ing deci­sions at the worst pos­si­ble time. geneti­cists call it the self-destruct gene, a chem­i­cal reac­tion con­sist­ing of equal parts pas­sage of time and giv­ing up too much, that trans­forms love into resent­ment. like one-way streets, you might reach a dead end, and if not, you cer­tainly can­not turn back. so in your pur­suits, be care­ful with what you think you are will­ing to go with­out. as is often the case with hind­sight, you may have made some ter­ri­ble mistakes.

famil­iar­ity and sen­ti­men­tal­ity have a ten­dency to fade into noth­ing more than jour­nal entries filed away in dusty mem­ory banks, occa­sion­ally retrieved only with the right song lyric. the truth is, most things in this life will to break in their own time. the pieces all shat­ter with a noisy crash and scat­ter with a reck­less aban­don at your feet. some­times it is bet­ter to replace bro­ken things than invest the time and effort in putting the pieces back together. but mostly it is because love lives in the empty spaces, and some­times, some of those bro­ken parts may have fallen through the cracks already. in the end, you may find every­thing dis­as­trously unrec­og­niz­able when you think you have it all put back together.

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