I didn’t believe in love before. Even I had boyfriends, lovers, partners, I liked them, I loved some of them – or I think I loved and I was scarcely single. But I always pondered what love truly is, if true love positively exists, why love comes off merciful for everyone else but not for me.
A memorial event hit me hard a few days ago. After hurting someone that I think I love, I came down to my rabbit hole. In the darkness and loneliness, I found myself sobbing. I saw myself in 15 years old girl who never believed in someone who would love her because of the abandonment and loss that she has endured in her early life. I sat down next to her, for the very first time, I hugged her tight. “It’s okay, it’s okay, everything would be fine then, I love you.”
The more I see myself, the more I love her greatly. The resentment in her reflected the unbearable events that she has experienced alone for years. I was not there for her, to take care of her, to show her what love is. I have been finding something that looks like happiness, I didn’t know true happiness within myself.
April rains give rise to May flowers. This is a deeply emotional time where tears of sorrow transform into tears of joy. Now I don’t need to know about love. Because my heart and I feel loved. We both know we love and we are loved.
It’s not a straightforward path, but it’s worth all ups and downs, devotion and obstacles, satisfaction and grief.