Normally, I would probably say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but these days, I’m not so sure. I’m beginning to rethink my stance on this whole love business.

It’s really the “lost” part of this whole equation that’s problematic. Losing someone you love is the worst thing imaginable. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Losing sucks.

If you’ve never loved, you still have the fantasy in your head of how nice it is.

If you’ve never loved, you’ve never experienced the pain and anguish that comes with it.

If you’ve never loved, you’ve never had to watch someone you love slowly die and be powerless to stop it.

If you’ve never loved, you haven’t uncontrollably cried until your eyes are a sea of swollen red, curling up on the floor because gravity suddenly got ten times heavier and your legs don’t work anymore.

If you’ve never loved, you’ve never cried every last tear in the world, thinking there will never be any more tears for anyone else because you’ve used them all up, only to go right back into convulsive sobs again.

If you’ve never loved, you haven’t told your friends that when that someone finally goes, you’re going to need a lot of help because you know that you might not make it through.

If you’ve never loved, you’ve never experienced the soul-crushing heartache of loss.

That sounds just fine to me.

While it still may be better to have loved than to not have loved at all, I think it might be better to never have loved at all than to have lost it.