To truly love and bare your heart into the loving, is to be unconditionally susceptible to getting hurt. Not in a form of being let down, but of being entirely prepared that feelings that you own not being reciprocated. You had no say in it as much as you had no choice. It just happens, just like breathing in every ounce of inhalation. It's so challenging, living every year knowing that yours is a heart that forgives, for love.

And I'm starting to get sick of the way I lament with theories and philosophies of my youth. I miss the summers.