Back then, I once said that if I love, I’d love with everything I have. With every fiber of my being. With every ounce left in me. I’d love and fall and scrape and hurt and (like a failed Pavlovian puppy) love some more.

Back then, I once said that if I got hurt, I would crush that person. Leave him in a pile of nothingness. Take every single thing he loves and kill it for the sake of my pleasure. Life will be a living hell. No where to go, no one to turn to, and nothing to cherish.

Now, I love with much hesitation and slim-to-none trust. Damn the door. There is no door. Just walls.

Now, I hate with such clarity. I scheme with a purpose. I plot with a vengeance. All carefully concealed with saccharine smiles and a gracious demeanor.

I cannot love the same but I can hate with even more passion than ever before.