Happily Never After

at this point I think I'm done with love.  I read once somewhere that said love isn't a feeling, but a choice. It isn't the stardust filled fairytale we all grew up to believe but days of tireless effort to make things work. And I guess I'm just not someone worth trying for, worth fighting for, worth waiting for. I never knew the certainty of the future, living on the brink of life and death each day has taught me that I may not be around tomorrow to see my fears come true. And living in darkness during most of my waking moments only taught me that when I find happiness, I must fight for it with all that I have. But what happens if it's happiness who chose to go? For me it's more about validation than romance. The chance to truly be myself around someone only once in a long long time. But now I know when the next chance comes not to take it for fear of putting all those I care about it pain. I can only fight for happiness that chooses to be fought for. But now I've come to realise that I'm just not meant to have happiness, at least not in this way; holding happiness in my arms is simply too much to ask for. I wouldn't call myself unlovable, but maybe just too difficult a battle. Loving me means you have to put on your armour and ride out into war, and really who am I kidding, who the hell wants to go to war? The happiness that love brings is only an illusion, and I'm done with life playing me for a fool. So the next time love comes knocking at my door, I'm bringing out the locks.