They say when you fall in love, you consider that person the most beautiful thing that's ever walked the earth.

They say you want to spend every second with them. That everything that comes out of their mouth is golden to you, and you would rather hear an insult to yourself rather than tolerate anyone saying a bad word about the one you love...

But what if that one...that guy...isn't a good guy? What if it would be wrong to think he's so wonderful and fantastic? Because he's not the knight in shining armor...

He's the villain in every story...deceptive. Self-serving. Malicious. He's the dragon guarding the tower, the monster under the bed. He's the scheming, dastardly evil-doer that ties the damsel in distress to the train tracks.

Now, I'm a far cry from a damsel in distress. But this 'beloved man' of mine has definitely given me nightmares. If you don't know my story, you'd think I'm insane.

He looks nothing like a villain. He's clean cut, preppy. Seemingly excited and curious about everything. He's that atypical cardigan wearing, day-planner carrying kind of a geek that doesn't exactly leave you shaking in your shoes.

But if you knew what he was really like, you'd be just as confused as I am.

He has the perfect cover. A neat, respectful, intelligent...almost feminine...young man. And beneath that, he is a raging, success driven sociopath, stopping at nothing to get what he wants.

He once told me that it wasn't his responsibility to care about other people and their feelings. As a fellow cynic and overall rude person, I should've just agreed. But this occurred shortly after I uncharacteristically fell head over heels for someone. Him. After deciding that I firmly believed he had hung the sun, the moon, and the stars, I was crushed to hear him speak those words.

"It's not my responsibility..."

It wasn't my responsibility care about him. To do things for his well being rather than my own. I didn't have to want the best for him or choose oh-so carefully what I said to make sure I never hurt his feelings.

Of course, it didn't take me long to figure out that he didn't have feelings. He was perfectly fine with breaking my heart into miniscule pieces and scattering them halfway across Texas. He had no qualms about the moral obscenity of using me and hurting me with my own emotions.

And that's the sort of guy I fell in love with. So should I let myself swoon over him and consider him accomplished and glorious in comparison to other men? Should I still dream about the day we reunite and he miraculously falls in love with me, even though he's miles away and made it clear he will never return my affection?

But most it even possible to prevent these feelings? It seems that they simply happen, regardless of the sort of person they are, or the sort of person you are.

Perhaps there is no way out of falling in love with the wrong person. You must continue with your life, still bleeding at the heart, and making up for whatever you've done to deserve such a fate.

Or maybe we're all meant to make it out of such obstacles stronger than we were before. Maybe it's a test on those as arrogant and bitter as myself, to give us a chance to understand those feelings, and mend our ways.

I can only hope it's the latter...and that we all get a happy ending.