A rant on present situations

So the fucked up thing about life is the construct of feelings. I have a tremendous amount of writer’s block. So some of the sentences in this parable shall forever remain incomplete, because I do not think I will ever have the words I have now every again. Well I hope.
The construct of feelings is a dilemma in itself. I like this girl, but this girl doesn’t like me enough to date me, in turn she likes someone else. Whom in turn doesn’t give a rats ass about her. And someone likes me, but Ideally I wouldn’t be caught dead with that person. The cycle continues. And the dilemma intensifies. But that’s only half of the cycle.
The second half comes to when she finally gives you a chance because the person she’s ideally eyeing has become a very distant option. So she needs someone to pass the time. Hence looks towards the person who doesn’t seem ideal. Well ideal enough to date long term. Throws you a rope of hope. Till the guy she actually likes comes to scope her off her feet. Breaking hearts at a wim. I heard a quote the other day. A broken man knows who to love but not how to, and a broken women doesn’t know who to love but how to.
Enter the genesis of our generational trust issues. Relating to Drake’s Marvin’s Room like an anthem for the masses, his album views has become the view of many. Well personally it’s my safe space. That album has healed my heart so many times. And I have to admit I’m reckless with it. I am heartbroken right now, keeping up facades. I am more than heartbroken. Heartbroken might not even serve the best image to give of my current predicament. Let me give you a visual representation what this last hun did to me. Picture a heart like trust, it’s made of glass. It slips in and from the wrong hands and shatters into a million little pieces on the floor. That’s the usual scenario. But when shards don’t hurt to pick up because you’ve lost feeling in the hands that mends them, you don’t really fear getting your heartbroken. (segue, loyal by chris brown is playing in the background rn, and damn. This life is a shitty one, anyways henceforth we return to the depths of the scary forest that is my heart.)
Where was I, oh. Not carrying what happens to your heart. It’s still glass though but mending it became a subconscious chore, factory reset after every evening. We move I guess. So if you’ve become immune to the pain that comes with heartbreak. What could this girl have done to get me to start writing again.

I saw her for who she was to me, and not who she really is. I don’t even think I know who she is now. But I’m not here to be blunt. I just want to describe the type of pain I am going through. Pieces don’t hurt to pick up. Its now a reflex function. Feeling like a sober Charles Bukowski, with my own views on life. Life is full of whores, alcohol and cigarettes and these are the pleasures of life. The rest is bullshit.
So without further dragging the subject on and on. Here’s the short version of how I think she handled my heart. It feels like she purposely broke it into shards, before grinding it into dust. Before handing It back to me. That’s how I feel.
So I’ve got a lot of decisions to make in the next couple of days. I’ve given up on sinking in bottles. My phone is also fucked, and I thought I would have another one by now but such is life. And it is a rant for another day.
I won’t market this, I’ll remove this in a couple of hours either way. I just had to write how I was feeling. Maybe it would make some sense