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You will never know how to feel until you are told. From a young age we are told the good and the bad. We are told to be glad as if smiling will solve the world's problems. We are told that happiness is the only correct feeling. They are told how love is and is not. People love (or so they think they do), but only true romantics understand the unfeelable. Sadly I fear that the true romantics also seem to be the ones who do not survive.
My name is Venus Cupidbow; a very ironic name for the girl who doesn’t love. Venus is the Roman goddess of love, beauty, and lust: someone I am by no means proud of being named after. “The Girl Who Doesn’t Love” is named Miseria: Roman goddess of grief, anxiety, and loss. That would suit me much better, although Venus is such a well-rounded, poetic name. I would not change my name even if it doesn’t suit me, my tragedies are far beyond just my nomenclature. There is no need to waste time on such an insignificant detail.
Dolefully, I am a poet. In other words, I am one of the aforementioned romantics. One of the people who daydream far beyond the capabilities of the human mind. One of the people who seem to die before the others…