Life has imparted upon me a profound lesson: that each individual harbors their own unique sentiments when ensnared by the throes of love. Some posit that love does not necessitate an exclusive claim, contending that if a person is not fated to be mine, then what accounts for my affection towards them? In truth, it appears that everyone is enamored with someone, and it is conceivable that while I may harbor affection for a particular individual, they may be destined for another. This circumstance ought not to be construed as a flaw in my sentiments or the manner in which I express my love.

There exists a maxim that purports that a higher power bestows upon us something superior. Within the realm of love, it is customary for individuals to compose verses or articulate sentiments for their beloved. However, it seems that every heartbreak transmutes the afflicted into a poet, imbued with a certain poetic sensibility that emanates from the touch of love. Observers often marvel, inquiring as to the origin of these verses, thereby illuminating the alchemy that transpires between my words and the accolades of others. This enchantment underlies every tale, whether it eventually finds its way to its intended destination or languishes in the obscurity of solitude.