But I fight..

I loved. I fought. And I lost.

I think the problem is not about how many times I have lost. It's about how i deal with those times..
The first time, I cried. I cried like a lost little boy. I couldn't control the tears, the feeling, and the pain. It felt like I was running out of oxygen. It felt like I was in a dark alley, without anybody, without knowing which direction to go. I was 20 then.

But age and numbers, are not the reason, I guess. I am 23, to 24, this year. And nothing significant has changed. I don't cry anymore, though. But it is not mainly because I grow stronger. I choose to repress the feeling inside. I choose not to believe in love again, so that when the farewell and breaking-up comes, I won't have to feel the same pain. I choose to run away..

Then, I realised that the earth won't stop just to let us mourn. Days pass by, minutes of the present become the past, and time will not compromise. We are all alone, we are born alone, and we experience the pain alone. There is no stuntman in the real life. We cant undo anything we regret. Yet, the good point here is, we are supposed to learn from the mistake. We are supposed to grow wiser, for we are all learner, from the day of our birth till our grave.

So why run away? Because I believe, mourning or crying doesnt make us pathetic. It just makes us human, with flesh and blood, with tears and smiles. It just allows us to put the gloomy past behind, and to move on.

I love. I lost. But I fight..