A million years ago, this was one of the most obvious things to me. To be.
Love was something I fought for, something I had in abundance of, something I deserved.
Now here I am... 60 years in 25 later. Doubting it.
It doesn't seem tangible any more.
Why... How.... What will I do about it, these questions are just the beginning
Why did it get to this?
When did love become a commodity that felt so rare, that finding it came with doubts about its authenticity
I now realize that I have long doubted its existence in its purest form... in most forms. Anything that did not come from the thickest of blood. It felt right that way. That was the only way possible. It felt safe.
I still feel safe. Very safe.
Will I cross this final bridge?
One step at a time....
Please don't let go.
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