It’s funny how people perceive me to be caring and loving. Like my father my heart is a void. I can’t bring myself to tell my mother i love her or hug her, because I’m unsure if i mean it. I love you, are 3 words to girls i said very few. But in 2011 somehow i said it to two. The first was on the tennis court, an angel with a smile on her face like a sliced wrist. The 2nd was one of the most beautiful girls i had ever known who made my summer, a friend I’ll never forget. I had repeatedly mistaken my infatuations as love, but the feelings are quickly discarded. I am not scare to love, i just feel unable to. I write about love because to me it’s a fairy tale, the one and true happiness i can’t seem to find. Bella was my only true love and even that was not real. I been recently trying to revisit close call friendships to feel it in any way, but I’m still vacant. As a child i was filled with it but somewhere growing up my heart froze in the process. I’m unsure if i will ever be able to love someone else again or if I’m forever flawed. I put up a visage because I’m scared people would see me differently for who i really am; my father’s son with the same frozen heart.