A simple chemical reaction suffices to turn tears into a smile- it only takes years of practice to perfect the transition. He said, I fear that you are soulless and incapable of love. She smiled- she could have cried, but hers was an old habit. He took her silence as a confirmation of his words. She took his words as a confirmation of the premonition underlying her silence.

Their roads parted one ordinary summer evening. So long for drunken confessions, midnight walks and far-fetched travel plans. When did people become replaceable, she wondered. Perhaps disappointment was an inherent part of human relationships. Or maybe she'd just got it all wrong again. Goodbyes not spoken hurt the most.

“We love life not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving”, spoke Nietzsche. I suspect we're not even used to loving. No, we're merely accustomed to deep words and heavy promises; to pretending we're oh-so-passionate and prone to infatuation; to faking wounds we then blame on others.

When, in truth, all we want is to be noticed, appreciated, admired; when all the real emotion we ever experience- whether adoration or hate- is for our own, frustratingly indistinguishable selves.