Accepting the Idea of Different Kinds of Love

I will never have the kind of lover who writes songs for me or even listens to a song and thinks of me. I will never have the kind of lover who cries at the thought of missing me just because they heard a line in a song or saw a girl in a movie – and I knew that didn’t I? I also know he loves me more than anyone has possibly ever loved me because he tries so hard to do it. He has struggled so much to keep loving me despite everything I did to make sure he didn’t. He misses me so much, he does so much for me, he wants to do so much more – and yet I’m here, looking for someone to dance with me while the whole world watches. A line from a top 40 song that I won’t remember in two weeks but that today means so much to me. Does that say a lot about the kind of person that I am or is that just a different but natural way of doing things?

I have a natural tendency for the melancholy in me – a natural tendency to be blue for the sake of being blue, a natural tendency to value nostalgia more than hope and romantic tragedy more than simple happiness. I know I have the wrong way of looking at things, but if it’s something built inside your nature can you really be held accountable for it?

There’s value in effort and intention but what about the undeniable irony of wanting a useless fork when you have 5 well meaning spoons?

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