I don't know what love is. I've tried so many times to define it, thinking I had it, but the tables always turned back around on me. My mind is berating me currently. I don't know what I want, all I know is that sleeping alone is miserable. I hardly sleep because of it. Love is a basic human need. Even when I was sleeping alone just a few short weeks ago, I could smile softly as I drifted off, thinking there was someone- though far away- that was probably doing the same. Looking back, I question whether or not it was even real. Was it even love? I don't know anymore. At the time it felt so real, but, love blurs reality. I don't trust my own heart at the moment. It tends to betray my best interest, and I end up with a general feeling of melancholy. I am afraid. I don't trust my own judgement anymore, and I've been forced to once again redefine everything I thought I knew. The cleverly engineered structure of my ideals and ideas has been dismantled by catastrophic force again, and I am left to pick up the pieces and reforge a solid foundation. This is the sort of thing that keeps me from sleep these days. Everything is so good, the future is so bright, and yet this feeling comes creeping as soon as I am left alone with my mind.
I worry that he will do it again, to some other unsuspecting girl. He'll sweep her off her feet and then miraculously fall out of love with her when she is head over heels; and rather than confessing this to her, he'll simply seek greener pastures. Was any of it real? He never even apologised for the nightmarish ending, as he probably doesn't have the slightest notion of the effect it has had. I'm tough, to a point, but on an emotional level, especially when it comes to love, when I am wounded, I tend to stay down- though not by all appearances- for quite some time. Therein lies the danger in throwing yourself whole hearted into something on the off chance that it could be something worthwhile. I never love halfway, it's all or nothing, full disclosure, honest, true, passionate, genuine love. It wears me out. After giving all that I have for so long, and so many times, I'm down for the count. In time all wounds will heal, but currently, I have no capacity to reciprocate anything to anyone. I'm too terrified of the possibility of yet another heartbreak to throw myself back in again. Yet, I feel like I should, I feel like it's worth it, despite the risk. As John Robbins said, "We need both to receive and to give love. Love is food for our souls, and without it we suffer greatly, just as we suffer physically if we starve." I don't want to starve.