Contemplating Love

I once loved of the madly, deeply sort. It began to end long before it did, and killed whatever it was in its downward spiral toward hell. But I loved in the it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all kinda way.

I have been wondering lately if the Starter really just was a taste of what's possible. Or if I'll always be as unsure (and let's be honest here, it's not really uncertainty. It's absolute, simple, shameful fear) as I am now about letting love happen.

I can feel the fear burrowing deep into my gut. The question I'm now asking myself, after being asked point blank by a friend, is whether I will keep sabotaging any chances at love, as I've been doing since the Starter and I parted ways.

It's all around me, love. It's in every direction. Yet, my comfort level keeps it on the other side of a wall a meter's length from me. And I really wish I was brave enough to tear down the wall.

The end.