One half of me is a hopeless romantic. The other half is well... just realistic.

His mind scolded him for his stupidity and urged him to forget her but his heart had no justifications for its stand. It remained unmoved, its solidarity unaffected, its arrogance still holding.

No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief.

Remember, someone, somewhere in some corner of this somewhat big world, is out there crying if you're unhappy and is happy if you are! And you know who that someone is!

Grief embraced him and welcomed him back, showering tears upon his arrival.

I wonder if I could take back every 'I love you' ever said to you, would I do it?

Love, he told himself, was open to interpretation like any other abstract indulgence but followed the same principles everywhere, irrespective of everything else. One, either won or lost in love, there was no bridge in between, and he decided he had lost, lost to himself, if not to her.