Long ago I loved deep and hard. And unrequited. The object of my affection enjoyed my attentions but ultimately tossed me aside. I took years to recover.
Let me rephrase this. I took years to begin to recover. I do not think, in retrospect, that that process has yet completed itself. I do not think that I have been altogether helpful in that process, though some obstinate part of me obviously insisted on trying.
I think that I will begin to lay out the pieces of my puzzle so that I can look at them in some semblance of objectivity. I am tired of feeling alone and unwanted. I am tired of looking in from beyond a window I myself have constructed. I WANT to trust. I want to believe, and yet, it seems I choose the wrong things to trust or believe.
I need to fix this broken thing in me. For me.
