Love Hurts: Navigating the Abyss of Romantic Rejection
This won't be discussing the song other than a ballad reference in the introduction - READY FOR REAL TALK ON UNREQUITED LOVE?
You know that feeling, when you open yourself up, offer your whole pathetic self to someone, and they just stare back at you blankly? Like you're the last can of beans on the shelf, the last trickle of water in the desert - and they turn up their nose, walk off to find something shinier, something more sparkly to satisfy their empty ache. That's the worst, I tell you. Worse than being stood up, ghosted, or publicly humiliated. Because at least with those, you can lick your wounds, swear off love, give up on the whole wretched affair. But when you put it all out there, raw and vulnerable, only to have it met with indifference? That's a special kind of hell.
I’m going to go ahead and give you the end all be all of the BIG picture - the one your parents probably spared you when talking about the birds, the bees, and why kneepads are such a good investment for some of you. LET ME BE BLUNT - and this is the God’s honest truth:
Love Hurts: A ballad as old as time, a painful truth sung through the ages. We've all felt it—the bitter sting of unrequited love, that gut-wrenching realization that the object of our affection doesn't feel the same. It's a cruel, cosmic joke that leaves us questioning our worth, our place in the universe, and our very reason for being. One moment, we're floating on the euphoric high of infatuation, and the next, we're crashing down to earth, our hearts shattered into a million irreparable pieces.
Welcome to the battlefield of love, where the wounds are invisible but the pain is all too real. In this column, we're diving deep into the twisted, gut-wrenching world of unreturned affection. We'll explore the depths of our brokenness, share war stories from the front lines of rejection, and find solace in the fact that we're not alone in our heartache.
So, buckle up, fellow heart warriors. It's time to face the music, embrace the pain, and discover the resilience within us that makes every heartbreak worth enduring. Because even though love hurts, it's also what makes us gloriously, beautifully human.
BEFORE WE GET TOO FAR INTO THE NITTY GRITTY, A WARNING FOR THOSE OF YOU THAT BELIEVE IN HAPPILY EVER AFTER AND YOU HAVE YET TO HAVE YOUR HEART CRUSHED - HAVE NO FEAR - IT’S COMING AND IT’S GONNA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA - ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. So to help these newbies out EVERYONE POST THEIR BREAKUP PLAYLIST (just try and keep it to 15-20 songs - some of you have too many breakups and nobody needs a compilation to last the rest of their life)
When the love you pour out like a hot, steaming offering onto the altar of some uninterested, unfeeling stranger isn't returned, it's like having your heart scooped out with a rusty spoon. The pain burrows in, worming its way through your guts until you can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but curl up and die a little inside. You thought this person was the One, the missing piece that would finally make you whole. You poured your everything into them, let them burrow deep under your skin until they were a part of you. And then, with a few careless words or a blank, indifferent stare, they rip that part of you out, leaving you bleeding and broken on the floor.
You feel it in the pit of your stomach, a yawning chasm where your pride and self-respect used to be. The way your heart sinks like a stone, plummeting through layers of denial and wounded vanity, landing with a hollow thud at the bottom of your soul. Suddenly, you're hyper-aware of every inch of your body, every social misstep, every ounce of unattractiveness you've spent your whole life trying to hide. And the person you thought you knew, the one you trusted with your fragile heart? They're a stranger now, a blank, unfeeling automaton, devoid of the capacity for the same depth of emotion you're drowning in. It's the kind of pain that makes you want to tear off your own skin, peel away the layers until you've stripped yourself down to the bare, quivering nerve endings.
The rejection is worse than any physical wound could ever be. It's a daily agony, a lifelong limp that will never quite heal. Every time you see them, it's like plunging a knife into the ragged, oozing hole where your heart used to be. And you just have to smile and nod and act like it's all fine, because how can you burden them with your pathetic, unrequited love? So you swallow it down, stuff it deep inside until it festers and rots, poisoning you from the inside out. The only way to make it stop is to completely excise that part of yourself, to cauterize the wound and pretend it never existed. But the scar will always be there, a constant, aching reminder of what you lost.
To scrape away every trace of your stupid, hopeful self and start fresh, harder and colder next time. Because you know, deep down, that you'll never be able to un-feel this, to unring this bell. All you can do is soldier on, keep your head down, and try to convince yourself that you're better off. That you dodged a bullet. That you're lucky to have escaped with your life. But the truth is, a part of you will always be back there, stuck on repeat, replaying that moment of shattering realization over and over again. Love may be a powerful emotion, but its absence is the true heart-destroyer.
THE LONELINESS OF ONE SIDED LOVE
The loneliness hits you like a punch to the gut. You're careening through life, heart in your hands, desperate for someone, anyone, to take it and hold it close. But it's like you're invisible, a ghost drifting through a world full of the living.
You watch them pair off, find their missing pieces, while you're left grasping at shadows, your love unrequited, a noose around your neck. You start to question your own sanity. Maybe you're reading too much into it, projecting your own needs onto someone who sees you as nothing more than a stranger on the street.
The doubts creep in, whispering that you're unlovable, unworthy of the affection you so desperately crave. And so you retreat further into yourself, building walls to protect what's left of your shattered heart. The loneliness becomes a living, breathing thing, a constant companion that follows you everywhere. You catch glimpses of what you want in the happy couples around you, and it's like a knife twisting in your gut. You wonder if you'll ever find that connection, that sense of belonging. Or if you're doomed to wander this earth, eternally alone, your love a phantom that can never be realized.
The Brokenness of Unreturned Love
Oh, the bitter pill of unreturned love—a sucker punch to the ego that leaves us questioning our very existence. When that special someone doesn't feel the same way, it's like a kick to the crotch of our self-worth. Suddenly, we’re left wondering if we’re just some pitiful excuse for a human being, unworthy of affection and destined to wallow in the abyss of romantic rejection. It’s a vortex of self-doubt and insecurity, my friends. One minute, we’re strutting around thinking we’re God’s gift to the dating world, the next we’re curled up in the fetal position, convinced we’re nothing more than a pathetic, loveless loser.
The brokenness of unreturned love is a special kind of hell, where our hearts get ripped out, stomped on, and served back to us on a platter of humiliation. But hey, at least we can take solace in the fact that we’re not alone in this misery. We’re part of a long, illustrious tradition of the romantically rejected, joining the ranks of the great poets, songwriters, and chronic Tinder swipers who’ve gone before us.
Picture this: you’re like Charlie Brown, running full tilt to kick that football, only for Lucy to yank it away at the last second. You land flat on your back, staring up at the sky, wondering why you fell for it again. Or maybe you’re more like that guy who brought a boom box to his crush’s window, serenading her with Peter Gabriel, only to have her dad come out and threaten to call the cops. We’ve all been there, in one way or another, thinking this time will be different, only to find ourselves face-down in the dirt, eating a mouthful of disappointment.
But here’s the twist: we don’t have to stay there. Sure, the brokenness of unreturned love is gut-wrenching, but it’s also a crucible, a test of our resilience. It’s in these moments of heartbreak that we find out what we’re really made of. Do we let the rejection define us, turn us into bitter, cynical shells of our former selves? Or do we rise from the ashes, stronger, wiser, and more determined than ever to find the love we deserve?
So chin up, warriors of the unrequited. Your broken heart is in good company. Embrace the pain, let it mold you, and remember that every scar tells a story of survival. You’re not a loser for loving deeply; you’re brave. You’re not pathetic for wearing your heart on your sleeve; you’re authentic. And while it might feel like you’re destined to wander the wasteland of rejection forever, know this: every step you take through the desert brings you closer to the oasis.
Here’s to the brokenhearted, the dreamers, the lovers who refuse to give up. In the end, it’s our capacity to love fiercely, even in the face of rejection, that makes us truly remarkable. So, keep your head high, your heart open, and your spirit unbreakable. Because the story isn’t over yet, and the best chapters are still unwritten. (WELL, YOU BETTER HOPE THAT THEY ARE BECAUSE IF IN FACT THAT WAS A LIE, YOU ARE PROBABLY FUCKED)
The Insignificance of Unrequited Love
Ever feel like you’re just a speck of dust caught in the whirlwind of someone else’s love life? Welcome to the club, my friends. When the apple of our eye couldn’t care less about our existence, it’s like taking a sledgehammer to the ego, leaving us feeling smaller than an ant under a magnifying glass. Suddenly, we’re questioning our very purpose on this rock we call Earth. “Why,” we howl to the indifferent cosmos, “would someone so magnificent not return my love?”
It’s a mind-bending paradox that catapults us into an existential tailspin, making us question our worth, our desirability, and our place in this cold, unfeeling universe. But take heart, fellow insignificant lovers—we're not alone in our insignificance. We’re part of a proud legacy of hopeless romantics who’ve had their hearts stomped on, only to dust themselves off and keep loving, despite the odds.
Think about it: you’re the star of your own tragic love story, a narrative as old as time. From Romeo pining for Rosaline before Juliet entered the picture, to that nerdy kid in high school who gave a heartfelt mixtape to the cheerleader, only to watch her toss it in the trash. We’re all part of this tragic, beautiful tapestry of unrequited love.
So let’s raise a glass to our own personal brand of cosmic irrelevance. Here’s to the unanswered texts, the one-sided crushes, and the nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why we aren’t enough. Here’s to the awkward confessions met with pitying smiles and the silent screams into the void.
May our insignificance never stop us from chasing that elusive flame of love, even if it scorches us every damn time. Because in the end, what’s the alternative? To give up on love? To let the universe win? Hell no. We keep loving, keep hoping, keep dreaming, even as the world tries to tell us we don’t matter.
Here’s to the bruises and the scars, to the undying hope that one day, someone will see us for the magnificent beings we are. We may be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but in our own stories, we’re heroes. And that, my friends, is worth every heartbreak, every tear, every unreturned affection. Because that’s what makes us human. That’s what makes us alive. So cheers to the chase, to the heartache, and to the undying hope that one day, it’ll all be worth it.
The Cycle of Unrequited Love
Ah, the endless merry-go-round of unrequited love—a sadistic cosmic joke that never stops spinning. Picture it: you're like Wile E. Coyote, forever chasing that elusive Road Runner, only to crash and burn in a spectacular cloud of failure every single time. You fall head over heels, your heart a giddy, fluttering mess, and just when you think you’ve got it, bam! You’re left holding a handful of broken dreams and a heart that feels like it's been put through a meat grinder.
And yet, like a glutton for punishment, you rise from the ashes of your own humiliation, ready to jump back into the ring. It's a brutal dance of hope and despair, a twisted tango where you convince yourself that *this time will be different*. Spoiler: it never is. You end up right back at square one, nursing your wounds and staring at the ceiling at 3 AM, wondering what in the hell is wrong with you.
This isn’t just a cycle; it's an emotional torture chamber. It’s like signing up for a marathon where the finish line keeps moving farther away, and every step you take, you’re running barefoot over broken glass. The rejection stings, the self-recrimination burns, and you’re left feeling like you’re stuck in a personalized hell crafted by the universe just for you.
But here's the kicker: you’re not alone. Oh no, you're part of a grand, dysfunctional family of hopeless romantics, each one of us chasing after that glittering mirage of love. We're all in this together, stumbling through the same minefield, getting our teeth kicked in by our own relentless optimism. It’s a masochistic brotherhood, a sisterhood of shattered dreams, where the only thing we’re better at than falling in love is getting our hearts stomped on.
So let's raise a glass to our fellow emotional masochists. Here’s to the ones who keep chasing that elusive love, even as it laughs in our faces and kicks us in the gut. Here’s to the late-night texts that go unanswered, the flowers that wilt in the trash, and the love letters that never get sent. Here’s to the bruises and the scars, to the hopes that refuse to die, no matter how many times they're crushed.
Because, in the end, what’s life without a little heartache? What’s love without a little madness? We keep on chasing, keep on hoping, because somewhere deep down, we believe that one day, the stars will align, and all this pain will be worth it. Until then, we’ll keep dancing this torturous dance, raising our glasses to the pain and the glory, to the heartbreak and the hope. Because that’s just who we are—hopeless, relentless, and gloriously, beautifully flawed.
ANOTHER COMMENT CALL FOR THE PROS OUT THERE - DID I LEAVE ANYTHING OUT ON THE TOPIC OF ROMANCE HELD HOSTAGE? IF SO, LEAVE YOUR LITTLE TIDBITS HERE FOR THE READERS THAT NEED THE ADVICE SINCE THEY HAVE YET TO FEEL THE ICE OF HEARTBREAK.
REALLY, I WANTED TO KIND HARP ON SOMETHING IMPORTANT
It is crucial to remember the importance of self-love and self-acceptance.
Welcome to the circus, folks. Step right up, because in this freak show, everyone’s got their noses pressed to the glass, hungry for a thumbs-up from the crowd. We're in this twisted game where the currency is likes, follows, and that hollow applause of strangers. But listen up, because here’s the kicker: the real gold isn’t out there. It’s buried deep inside, waiting for you to dig it out with your bare hands.
Imagine this: you're that poor sap in high school, the one who wore a Garfield costume to prom because Becky said it'd be "hilarious." Spoiler alert, it wasn't. You spent the night sweating bullets under polyester fur while everyone else laughed. But hey, if you laughed too, they’d laugh with you, right? Wrong. That’s the punchline nobody tells you.
Fast forward to adulthood, and it’s the same grim joke. You bend over backwards, contort yourself into shapes that would make a circus freak jealous, all for a pat on the back that never comes. You chase after love like a dog chasing its own tail, only to crash face-first into disappointment when you realize the people you’re trying to impress couldn’t care less.
Here’s the brutal truth: you’ve got to be your own damn hero. You’ve got to be the one who claps for yourself, even when the rest of the world is busy scrolling past. You’ve got to find that kernel of self-love and guard it like your life depends on it—because it does.
Picture this: it’s a Tuesday, your boss just chewed you out, and your partner forgot your anniversary again. You're one sad song away from a full-blown pity party. Instead, you decide to throw a middle finger up to the universe and buy yourself a cake. Yeah, a cake. You light the candles, sing yourself a loud, obnoxious “Happy Birthday” even though it’s not, and you savor every damn bite because you deserve it.
When you start treating yourself like your own best friend, the game changes. You stop needing the applause. You stop chasing ghosts. Instead, you find that weird, wonderful freedom that comes from knowing you’re enough, just as you are. You start doing things because they make you happy, not because you think they’ll earn you points with the crowd.
So here’s your reality slap: love yourself first. It’s not easy. It’s a messy, chaotic ride with more ups and downs than a rollercoaster designed by a lunatic. But it’s the only ride worth taking. When you get off, you won’t just be standing taller—you’ll be standing alone, proud, and complete. And that, my friends, is where the real magic happens.
I THINK THAT LITTLE GOLDEN NUGGET OF LIFE ADVICE FROM THE OTHER SIDE IS WORTH EVERYONE GIVING IT A READ LIKE IT WAS REQUIRED READING (OR A BANNED BOOK BECAUSE EVERYONE READS THOSE ONCE THEY ARE TOLD NOT TO) HELP ME GROW THE SUBSCRIBER LIST BY CLICKING THE SHARE BUTTON UP THERE.
EVERYBODY LIKES FREE (AND POSTING THIS ONE FOR A FRIEND)
In this god-forsaken world, where our dreams have long since turned to ash, the only salvation we have left is the power of the written word. Some of us write newsletter full of sarcasm, wit, and the real talk reality slap that some of you lackluster non starters need to get going. And other writers publish feel good life advice and self improvement doctrine (that I must admit I sometimes read - buy mostly because I know a guy or two that write the stuff). Well, one of these friends recently showed me Chapterly and if you're looking for the perfect tool to transform that bleak, blackened husk of a dream into a living, breathing reality, then look no further than this web application.
The authoring app created by the literary rabble-rousers, the bestselling scribes, the word-slinging mavericks who've been there, crawled through the broken glass, and emerged on the other side. But Chapterly is no simply a mere app, my friend. No, it's a whole damn revolution. A way to focus your mind, to channel that creative madness into something tangible, something that can be held in the trembling hands of a reader. With its spell-check built in, the ability to add your own AI extension, an ai of it’s own, and paid editing and coaching, Chapterly will strip away the noise and leave you with nothing but the quiet voice inside, whispering the words that will set your story free.
And what of collaboration, you ask? Ah, the lifeblood of any true artist. Well, Chapterly knows that writing is a lonely game, a battle fought in the shadows, but it also understands that sometimes you need to bring in the cavalry. With Chapterly's seamless collaboration tools, you can summon your fellow word-warriors, your beta-reading brethren, and forge a masterpiece together, tempering the steel of your individual voices into a blade that can cut through the heart of any reader. So if you're tired of watching your dreams wither and die, if you're ready to unleash the creative genius that's been clawing at the inside of your skull, then sign up for Chapterly by clicking here. Clicking that link will net you 30 days free to give it a go - you can thank my friend the feel good writer for that, and let the revolution begin.
WANNA LET OTHERS KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF CHAPTERLY, WELL - YOU HAVE TO TRY IT FIRST, THEN RETURN HERE AND LEAVE YOUR 5 START REVIEW.
Our First Political Piece: AND We're Not Endorsing Bleach Injections Either
Brace yourselves, folks. This is our first dive into the political cesspool, and trust me, we're not here to endorse any mad scientist's (or Former President’s) bleach injection fantasies. The cold, hard truth is, if you're hunting for a stellar candidate this election cycle, you're in for a major letdown—at least if you're looking at the two major parties.
In President Biden's recent interview with ABC News' George Stephanopoulos, the goal was simple: quell the rising tide of doubt from Democratic members of Congress about his chances against the orange-haired bogeyman, Trump. But instead of calming the storm, Biden seemed to pour gasoline on the firestorm that is his reelection campaign. It's not just about his age, folks; it's about convincing the disillusioned and those who demand competence above all else. And to call out the shenanigan for what they are and to those who are crazily still dreaming of a BERN that isn’t ever coming, here’s my quote of the week for ya:
"Funny how the same folks making a fuss about Biden's age didn't mind jumping on the Angry White Guy Brigade for Great Grandpa Bernie Sanders, who's got an extra year on Uncle Joe. Guess when it's their guy, age is just a number, huh?"
The Real Battle: Winning Over the Disillusioned
Four House Democrats have already shouted for Biden to step down, and more are likely to follow. This isn’t a slow leak; it's a damn burst. The skepticism isn't about Biden's age, but his ability to unite the party and inspire confidence. The interview might have shown a president who can still string sentences together, but it didn't sway the doubters.
Stamina Versus Substance
Biden’s insistence on his stamina and his refusal to take a cognitive test were supposed to address age concerns. But let's be real: the issue isn't just his physical endurance; it's his ability to connect with voters who feel like they're stuck in a political Groundhog Day. One House Democrat cut to the chase: "The interview hardly inspires confidence. It changes nothing." This isn't about running a marathon; it's about proving he can lead and earn trust.
The Competence Conundrum
Support from a few lawmakers aside, the interview left a lot of people cold. Biden’s failure to confront the harsh realities of polling and his lack of a compelling second-term vision were glaring missteps. One House Democrat called the interview "not impressive," another was "shocked" by Biden's "refusal to recognize reality."
Here's the rub: it's not just about Biden being old. It's about believing he's up to the job. Voters and lawmakers want more than platitudes about stamina—they need a detailed, actionable plan. Rep. Brad Sherman (D-Calif.) suggested an "extended live interview" to lay out Biden’s roadmap for the next four years. This isn't just about optics; it's about substance.
Rebuilding Trust
For Biden, fixing his image requires more than a one-off interview. It's about relentless, transparent communication. Rep. Ro Khanna (D-Calif.) hit the nail on the head, calling for "complete transparency" from the White House and a willingness to tackle tough questions about Biden’s abilities. This isn't just political theater; it's essential for restoring faith and proving Biden is more than a placeholder.
The Bottom Line
The age issue? It's a sideshow. The real question is about inspiring confidence and proving competence. One House Democrat summed it up: "We needed more than that." The interview was a step, but a feeble one, in addressing the deep-seated doubts about Biden’s leadership.
To win over the jaded and those who believe in competence, Biden must go beyond defending his physical fitness. He needs to lay out a crystal-clear vision for the future and engage in open, honest dialogue with voters and lawmakers. Only then can he hope to unite the party and fend off Trump in the next election.
The Bottom Line - HERE GOES - Joe Biden posted on Social Media this week that he was in this to win this and that he beat Trump once and would beat him again. The truth is - the numbers don’t provide that statement any confidence and Americans only listen when it comes to the strength of the economy when it is a Republican lying about it or Ross Perot giving an economics class. So, sadly, we have rate this statement by Joe as mildly incoherrent like or basic malarky. If the sitting President would like to ensure he beats Trump the best bet where he can air safely on the side of accomplishment with this is simply not to run against him. Tune in next time where depending on your engagement and responses we MAY discuss why Trump just may thump Kamala.
The idea when starting this newsletter was to encourage engagement and to try and drive it by including prompted comments and questions, polls, and other methods of madness that haven’t exactly been successful just yet. This is where you come in. Be sure to leave comments and answer polls. Be sure to particpate and share your advice, your failures, and your flaws. Because someone out there is way worse off than you and they may need to read it to feel okay enough to pick themselves up and keep on keeping on. That is the goal - to empower with engagement on the not so happy and often embarrassing or painful moments that have made us the productive tax paying and law aibing counrty folk and back woods brotherhoods we have become. This chat channel is the next expansion to the According to Author Unknown newsletter and it will change from time to time - you can expect that there will be some snark and very circumstancal opinions - just try not and make it personal or attack each other - there is enough of that going on and we should really figure out how to argue more effectively if we are going to open our mouths anyway - otherwise, we end up looking like a fool or a third party voter (joking - mostly)