That's my problem. For that matter, that's the problem with my kind. You stay in love with love long after it's left the building. Long after the war is over, the battles lost and the colours burnt. You remain in love with the feeling of being in love.
And then you look for it in all the wrong places. Places where people like you don't usually hang out. And then you meet someone entirely alien. But you want to believe that you're like each other. And so you launch yourself into another love story, making believe that you love her. But it's not her. It's love.
You realize your folly too late. Many ugly scenes, jealousies and insecurities later. And once again you find yourself on the footpath on the road to hell.
Sad but true.
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