I love love.

I am the eternal optimist.

I love the pain of unrequited love. The agony of being alone. Not that I know loneliness now the way I used to. But I still feel it. That fear that sits in the back of your mind, and haunts you when you think things are going well. But then there’s love. That safe haven where even the worst fear goes to die. (Or at least into a deep coma.)

I love first love.

A friend was over a few nights ago and we were talking about love. How I fell in love. How she fell in love. I love first-love stories. They’re so tender and romantic. The supple overtures that lead to the first kiss. The first touch. Such a delicate caress.

All of it leading to that moment when your body finally shudders with overwhelming love.

Is there anything more beautiful?


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