Loving him had become so painful at the end, not because of him but because of the hatred that surrounded him. It conditioned me and I somehow fell into a trap. It’s like I forgot the simplest truth: Love feels good. Then I spent all this time with you, strangely devoted, eating pain and convincing myself it was love. But, how did it feel? There’s the rub. Suddenly finding the right memory snapped me out of it. I had to reexperience all of it: the butterfflies, the dopeyness, wanting to give, give, give. And I did. I had a psychotic reenactment of true love and crazily enough I regained my emotional equillibrium. Love is all that matters, but it has to be real. And you’re guilt free. You didn’t make me lose perspective, I did that all on my own.
