love hurts

is it really true?
i guess it's one of those things that time and again through experiences (yours and many others') and courses of events you find that it happens over and over, yet you never quite let yourself buy into the idea... never quite let yourself believe... because if you do, once you take that step, you would have crossed a line - the thin red line seperating cushy idealistic notions from cold merciless realistic ones.

so why do i do it?
in fact why do people in general do foolish things such as... give away some precious breakable part of themselves to another person? do we really believe that there could be someone other than ourselves who's gonna give enough shit about you to guard that piece of you with everything that they've got? how often does that actually happen? is that what each one of us is trying to get a shot at? is that the outcome we've somehow figured is worth the often indescribable hurt and pain generously littered like broken glass covering a path on the way there?
is it that outcome.. that blissful idea that putting up with the thunderstorm may lead you to a pot of gold at the end of the damn rainbow?

or is it the process - what's usually called "all that time we spent, the things we did, the irreplaceable memories we shared together" - that we feel makes the depressions worth it?

maybe at the end of the day it's about the chances/risks taken.. sometimes we get lucky, sometimes we screw up and there's no way of knowing which you'll get until you actually do it? and i suppose it's possible that it's just at the points right after the fall, when you're all scraped and bruised and wondering wtf was i thinking & htf could i have let myself get into this?, that you start to feel this way.

and as the flawed beings we are, what we do about it is get over it (preferably with ice cream) and do the whole thing over again. seriously.