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Love had never seemed to bring about anything else than pain. For her, that feeling was eternally connected to either rejection, loss or heartache. She often wondered whether most people who declared themselves lonely knew how actual loneliness felt. Whether they had any idea how heart-wrenching it was and how there was nothing that could prevent it from evading each and every part of one's life.

She was just too different from other people to not feel alone even if she was in the middle of a crowd of people whose attention would naturally be focused on her.

She’d tried to drink it away and had failed miserably, finally having to endure the emotional pain to prevent the physical one that her ulcer brought about.

She did not need anyone in her life, at least not to survive. She often felt as if she couldn’t feel the ground under her stiletto heels anymore, as if other peoples’ happiness was clawing at her, each sight of a happy couple or proud mother gnawing at her heart and eating a little more of it away. They were all oblivious to what was raging behind the cool façade of the self-assured, beautiful woman that always walked tall and never let anyone see her tears.

Nobody knew how she had always been on the edge of giving herself up in the few brief relationships she’d had, how she had only managed to catch herself before she’d turned into someone she didn’t want to be. Miss Parker had always blamed herself for a failed relationship although she knew that it had just not been the right man.

Now she sat here, without company or even a glass of scotch to hold onto and felt the tears dry on her cheeks like every other evening that she didn’t instantly collapse on her bed, exhausted from the day’s fruitless chasing.

She watched the rain pour down, imagined the raindrops to be the teardrops of the sky and wondered for the hundredth time why she was still doing this. Why she was still living this life she so thoroughly hated.

Running away, somehow getting out of it was out of question- so why did she hang on? The answer was what hurt the most. Something that stung far worse than all the other disappointments that her feelings had been numbed by, after so much pain that had been inflicted on her.

The answer was that the reason why she hadn’t yet put her gun to her temple, was that beneath the hurt and sorrow, beneath all the pain and constant disappointment was still hope. She hated to admit it but somewhere very deep inside her, she still hoped for a little bit of love and happiness that would eventually arrive at her doorstep.

It could happen tomorrow or in a few years because there simply couldn’t be so much injustice in life as to not grant her even a tiny bit of the bliss other people called normal.

She smiled a cynic smile when realization hit her once again: Paradoxically, it was just that faint bit of hope that was most likely to kill her someday.


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