There are so many ways to describe how one feels in love. There is the maddening desire to be with that person, the constant tug at your heart when you are separated from the one you love, the often reminder of your love from just about anything you see or hear and of course the touch that only your loved one can provide.

If you really sit back and think about it. Something happened when you poured your heart into that someone, something changed and you lost something, maybe a piece of the proverbial heart. You feel lost when you are not with them and you feel not close enough when they are right next to you.

Some people refer to the beginning of a relationship as the honeymoon phase, what happens if that phase never ends? What happens if that phase is the actual relationship? Does that make you delusional? Maybe you need psychiatric help because you shouldn’t feel that way all the time, right?

I have been called a hopeless romantic, sensitive, a sap and many other things that essentially mean the same thing. Why does love have to be so hard though? Some people love to run, others love to eat, others love to cook, I am a romantic, I like to make the one I love feel wanted and secure. Although I am the one who ends up feeling separation. I am sure now that I am just an asshole and no matter what I do will end in my own heart break. I am a romantic. I live life by the seat of my pants. And I have failed at everything I have tried… …

At this point in my life, I really thought I would have it all figured out.  Although I have come to learn, today more than ever, that I will never figure it out, I will never have any answers and I will probably never actually get what I believe to be true love. I am too old, I must be.

Or maybe it’s the baggage I carry. I have one child that I have been the only parent for her since she was three. So, yes, I have baggage. And no, I will not trade the baggage for anyone or anything. Why can’t I have both though? Get my cake and eat it too? Not in this life it seems.

So many times I thought the hurdles were gone, the barbwire was removed and Donkey Kong stopped throwing barrels at me. I was obviously wrong. I guess God feels I need more, I can handle more or I have more to learn.

I am sure this page is more a rambling than an cohesive story or essay. It is just my mumblings to myself with out hesitation or remorse. So yell at me, scream at me, step on me, it doesn’t really matter.

I have stopped trying to figure anything out. I have stopped believing in love and anything it represents. All it has ever brought me is hurt and pain. You are taught as a child if something hurts don’t do it anymore. So why, why do we keep believing in love? I hurts and it causes pain. So, we should know better than to mess with it, right? Wrong. We must be idiots.

If you are reading this then you either know me or you are feeling what I am feeling. I have tried to stop feeling. Pain is a switch for me, I can turn it on or off when I want. Something I can thank the military for. Although this pain of love is something extraordinary, something I cannot control. The pain is unbearable and the fear of never feeling that love again is just as present. Ugh.

Why try anymore. I will stop hear cause I am sure I have either confused you or cemented in your head that the heart is just stupid and knows nothing of the real world and how life is really supposed to be.

What’s worse, I don’t even have my heart. I gave it away. I thought love would prevail and conquer all, proving I really am a hopeless romantic idiot.