She has never ever enjoyed the feeling of falling in love. It is just constant anxiety. Will he leave? Will he break my heart? Will he stop loving me? Will I stop loving him? Because in the end everyone is a stranger, and temporary. You’ll never know if and when they will leave. Maybe he told you that for the very last time, maybe they held hands for the very last time, he said I love you for the very last time, one morning he kissed you for the last time. But you won’t know it was the last time until it’s too late.
Everything she thought was good and lovely was all the bad and terrible parts. Her love which was pure and from her soul at first has now become mixed with fear. Fear of losing him, fear of him being with someone else, fear of being alone. Or maybe that was her. That’s just how she loves.
She must have loved sadness to love him like that, don’t you think? She must have known he would leave at some point but chose to get hurt. She must have loved him anyway because you don’t let people you don’t love take away your soul.
She must have loved him anyway.
And, had he tried for her, had he tried for him, they would have been in love forever.