Addicted to Love

I confess to you all right here right now that my one true obsession in life is love. Every waking hour of mine contains a thought, a feeling or random act of kindness; I live for love.

For someone so seemingly melancholic I want you to know that under this skin is not misery or woe, inside me bubbles an eternal fountain that pushes me to grow. 

When I was younger I called this Jesus as he was the light the shone within us all (or so my youthful mind believed) and back then I was so very proud to say that I was in possession of perfectly good examplary Catholic ways. 

As I matured I had stirrings inside; curious passionate feelings which surpassed my Jesus who could longer be the only man who caught my eye.

My early adult years I practiced Kabbalah by making peace, learning and loving. I gave my heart freely to whomever needed love whenever love was needed. I was charitable and convivial yet it was seldom given back. Giving and giving but never receiving I looked all around and in one moment realised that I was not and had never been loved. The pain of rejection pierced me quite suddenly all the way through and a gaping hole was left for Lonliness to unbeknowingly seep deep inside.

 This wounded Lonely heart found other lonely souls as I  wandered the desolate wilderness trying to understand what was missing. Bodies collided often. Colliding without thought or feeling, false intimacies and imitation of good honest relations. These fleeting moment of sensuality are over too soon in the desperate attempt to find my hearts desire but this is not love this is lust. 

I pretend to give up. I pretend to not look whilst looking everywhere I go. I am not looking at the bar, in the club, at dinner with friends or worse – at the supermarket. I think of others like me and meditate that they find love and happiness. I wish the world love. I give love, my love, to everyone I meet. I am warm, friendly and loving. 

Sometimes I cry myself to sleep sad that love will not find me other times I am hopeful and full of pragmatism that ‘everything is eventual’ and when the time is right love will come along. Still, all day everyday I think of nothing else but love. I am addicted to love.


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