The devil loves me

He knew that the woman he knew had also been a victim of his betrayal! He had told his story of "everything is one of me," and turned it into a gripping film. He knew he had been generous with everything he focused on. He was astonished by the women who insisted on dictating the timing of their romantic encounters and forgetting the happy times they had shared with him! He was certain that everything fades and dies with time. Nothing remains the same, in perfect condition. He remained convinced that women loved roses in their bloom, in the vibrancy of their colors, and in their swift withering. He believed that, like perfume bottles, which stand out because of them, and whose scents are distinctive, they must one day run out! He was fully aware that every woman he had met had played a role in his perceived infidelities. His interactions with each of them could easily be turned into a captivating film. He sincerely believed that he had been generous with every woman who crossed his path. He couldn't help but wonder about the women who seemed to focus on remembering the painful moments, ignoring the happy times they had shared with him. His belief remained unwavering: everything eventually fades and succumbs to the passage of time. No matter how powerful a moment may seem, it inevitably changes. He firmly believed that women were like roses, in the allure of their forms and the vibrancy of their colors, and also in the speed with which they wither. Like the contents of perfume bottles, no matter how valuable or exquisite their fragrance, they are destined to perish one day.