I'm running out of words but not out of pain.
Or one thing results in the other?
I used to thank every fake love that happened in my life.
They always brought feelings with them.
Or maybe they didn't even had to have feelings
(fake love lacks real feelings),
but even without feelings, they'd bring inspiration for my written words.
Or maybe I was the one who had all the words inside of my heart,
and as every fake love broke it, little by little
(fake love doesn't break us at once),
it released every word I had left for love, being it real or fake.
And now I can't seem to write about love, being it real or fake.
Writing about writing about love is harder than you'd think.
Specially when you're trying to find out which of the loves you experienced were real, and which of them were fake.
I keep repeating the words I wrote inside of the parenthesis (so they wouldn't run away (counting this last one in (even though I remember a rule that said: you can't put parenthesis inside of a parenthesis, writing about love is complex enough without those other symbols made to put thoughts aside)))), trying to  figure out real love.

I heard once, that you put inside the parenthesis extra information, that don't really mess up with the main goal of your wording.

But right now, I feel like what's inside these parenthesis is messing up with my wording real bad.
I hear them echoing in my mind:

(fake love lacks real feelings)

(fake love doesn't break us at once)

(so they wouldn't run away)

(counting this last one in)

(even though I remember a rule that said: you can't put parenthesis inside of a parenthesis, writing about love is complex enough without those other symbols made to put thoughts aside)





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