She looked in the mirror to see herself with wirey, grey hair that was so thin that you could see the dry scalp that lies beneath. She glared into her beady eyes that open so little.
Her thin lips that curled into her slobbering mouth. Her wrinkly skin that drouped so far down.
She thought of when her hair was a thick, rich, red colour . Her blue eyes that smiled beautifully. Her soft, big, rosy lips that smiled like everyone around her was her best friend.
Oh, how she smiled.
Her skin as smooth as marble and the shine was like a light beam glistening in all directions, remembering her body that curved like a woman and would suit any item of clothing.
The corners of her mouth stretched from ear to ear as she showed her shining teeth.
A dull frown sprawled across her face as she remembered,
She remembered how he broke her, her life....her heart. The heart.... it's a delicate thing, a thing in which you could say, should be 'handled with care'.
Not care as in a box with breakable glass inside but a universe which beholds fragile emotions deep within.
Emotions that are so delicate that a couple words could blow the whole thing up, the whole world up, well.... her whole world anyway.
The real meaning of love,
Love is a feeling, well, More than a feeling. It's a passion.
A passion to be with someone as long as you can because your stomach feels like something's swirling and curling around in there whenever your by them. Because they make you happy.
Because the rush that you feel makes you want more.
Happy is an underestimated word. Teachers... telling children to "pick a better word than happy". No.
Happy is more than a bad descriptive word, it is one of the most important things in life, THE most important thing in love. The thing she needed most.
She had felt it before.... you know? Love. She felt all the happiness and butterflies but she is.... less emotional now. She has a different concept on it all.
In a way she is smarter, not educational wise but awareness wise. She doesn't want to feel love again because it's too hard to fight for.
A typical phrase is that love is worth fighting for but for her, well... let's just say that she thinks not. You fight and fight and yet still loose in the end. She realised it too late.
Love is like a rollercoaster, you go up and down,
up and down and when you come to the end you think it was amazing until you stand up and that wave of sickness comes upon you and you never want that feeling again.
But after your time recovering you forget the feeling and fall right into the trap of the thrill and excitement. I think now...now she has finished her time in the fair.
That's what she used to tell me anyway, back when we used to laugh together, love each other, of course not now. I mean, I still love her but as I have recently explained, she doesn't love me.