05 October 2007

The problem was that I'd realized something and I wasn't sure how to deal with it. I had completely convinced myself that love wasn't real.

Change, I reasoned, was the only constant, except when I needed a change. Nothing stayed the same. Everything changed, even the things I was sure I needed to keep going.

Love, of course, is unconditional, but if everything is always changing, how can there be such a thing as love? How can something claim to defy the laws of nature and yet be such a natural thing?

Then came summer, the one thing I was sure would rescue me, and for awhile, it did. Things made sense again.

And now, just when I've become sure love really is possible--and I don't just mean the kind where you fall in love, I mean the kind between mothers and daughters, brothers and sisters, and most of all, of course, best friends--I'm feeling it all over again.

If love is real, why do I feel so alone?