Epiphany at 11:03 pm...

I am the problem.


For years, I asked myself why?
Why is being loved so furiously sought after by me? I understand love is an intricate emotion that which most, if not all, human beings want to experience (yes, even the most cynical of cynics want it too). I understand it's human nature to love and be loved, and once you are loved, you don't want to ever lose that feeling. And if, God forbid, that love perishes, it is human nature to go out and find new love. I understand that me seeking love is not anything new. It is not original, it is not groundbreaking, it is not revolutionary. It is normal, it is expected, it is customary, average, standard, and conventional.

Let me expand on this. I believe that I have grasped love in the palm of my hand...once. And I believe that after that, I was shown glimpses of love here and there. So I understood that love was possible, even for me. Yet, knowing that I held love in my hands, I purposely gripped it too tight, choked the holy shit out of it, letting it slip and ooze out of crevices between my fingers. And seeing those tiny flashes of love, I stared too intensely, letting it blind me, as if I were staring directly at the sun with the naked eyes, so that I would be forced to put my hands up to dim the glare and turn my head away, no longer seeing it.

So I'm forced to alter my original age old question a little bit. No longer is it why do I want love, now it's why won't I let myself be loved? For me....love isn't enough. It wasn't enough for my parents, wasn't enough for most of my aunts & uncles. It's not enough for most people in the country, peep the divorce rate.

I won't let myself be loved because I understand that love is fleeting. It won't last, it will end. That was horribly pessimistic and heartbreaking for me to say. Wow...

I am the problem.