It's a drug. Maybe it's worse than a drug, but I'm too young to know. When you have it, there's nothing in the world that feels more natural or more warm. Love lets you know there's a reason to live, it gives you reason. But then it's gone. And like a drug there are withdrawals, though I have to say I've never really experienced drug withdrawals. Maybe I'm wrought-iron. But love, when it's gone you feel nothing but a vacuum of existence. You, me. I feel empty. I keep looking for something to fill that, and maybe that's my biggest flaw as a person. Maybe that's the core of my issues with my mother, because she never showed me the kind of everlasting love that comes with family, the kind that everyone deserves. I've seen it in other families, had a taste for it, but it was always a tease. I knew it was connected to my own sexual relationships, and that it was superficial at best (even if genuine).
The problem is lust can fill that hole almost as well as love can. It can make you believe anything. The kick is that it's temporary. In the end you realize you're just as alone as you were before. The difference is someone else is there, feeling lonely, trying to use you to fill their hole too. And this looks to be the most unlike-Love thing that can possibly be.
Create something for yourself no one can take away. Perhaps derive a form of self-love, just not the narcissistic kind. Maybe I need to seek a constant state of serenity and contentment rather than chase the highs and lows of romantic love. Or perhaps I need to seek both, but if only one have the former.
Bah. This is too much work.
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