By Imane Bousnina
By Imane Bousnina
Rabat – Faced with passionate love and infidelity, you remain silent. You don’t say anything, wait for him, and smile like nothing happened. But your heart is broken. You try to hide your feelings with some makeup and a hypocritical smile.
I know exactly how it feels when you wait for him. His teasing eyes shine from afar as he prepares to tell you what happened. He confidently looks at you and silently sings the song of his vices. He takes you in his arms, kisses you, and tells you how tired he is. As for him, he doesn’t feel affected by these tragedies. He will only find you boring and melancholic and will justify his actions if you rebel. You didn’t know that searching his phone could be fatal.
I know what it’s like not being able to sleep at night: you imagine a myriad of scenarios and ask yourself, “What does she have that I don’t?” Believe me, she has absolutely nothing more, but just plays a role in his game.
He is mistaken. He confuses the smell of your body with hers, the taste of your lips with hers, the effect of your caresses with hers.
But love is blind. It makes you believe that your sweetheart will change with time, that he will realize your value and take into consideration your efforts to keep the relationship.
You are mistaken. He will never realize this. Vices can’t be cured, and he will remain the same person until his dying day. He will harm you, he will hurt you, and he will make you cry.
And you know what? You are not going to leave him because the more he acts like this, the more you get used to it. It’s called a habit: good or bad, it’s still a habit. You get used to remaining silent because you read somewhere that silence is a sign of strength. FALSE! Silence is a sign of weakness, regret, and guilt.
Repeat after me: love is a mess, a stream of bad blood, a tragedy, an irony, a satire, martyrdom. Love is the underestimation of our beings, the renunciation of our principles, the treason of our brains. Love is a heavy burden on our backs that reminds us of our weaknesses and our sensitivity. Love is a crime that we commit against humanity. Love is not Cupid, but his arrows. Love is not Romeo and Juliet, but their death. Love is not the shoulder, but the weapon. Just leave him.
This article was published in French by hyawhowa, Translated by Nahla Landolsi. Edited by Katrina Bushko
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Morocco World News’ editorial policy
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