There is no pain in this world, more unsettling than the pain of losing your love. It burns you to the ground, leaves you devastated with a stony desolation of your inner self that embarks to last just forever.
Experienced in one or a different configuration, context or course by every individual. Yes, 'Break up' is what we all usually call it. But ever thought, why is it not equally grieving for the one who called it quits. Was the ditcher not in love all that time together or was the ditched, into it, downright? Did the ditcher never feel that magic and was it just the ditched who felt all the butterflies?
Or is it just an ugly human psyche, a strange satisfaction that comes with leaving, keeps the ditcher from the blue shadow and a hurt ego on being abandoned,that makes the ditched, act ruined?