Love seems pointless. Love, if it ever had any, has lost all its value. What once I believed fervently in, looks and feels emotionless, dead now. The regret is not that I loved. The inhumane things I did for love to those who are dearer to me than those who I fooled myself into believing I loved the most, I regret most.
I went a long way, came merely a few paces away from what I had believed to be eternal bliss, and I stopped. I turned around. I made a decision. I saw nothing. Why does Love appear so pointless, so meaningless, now? I walked away.
Love is most beautiful. It is most painful, too. I did not come across so much beauty as I did pain in Love. I don’t mind the pain. I never did. That beauty seems pointless, meaningless, now. I wish I could do something of this regret I have. I will have to live with it.