A Love Lost
The Unfinished Love Story
Is it any less than love when it had no chance to live out?
I don’t say this to elicit your sympathy but my heart hasn’t done so well at writing romantic love stories with happy endings into the script of my life.
But I am not here to tell you any stories with sad endings. Not at all.
The truth is that the happiest love story that remains in my memory is one with no ending. Open-ended, never closed. Or perhaps with an ending that has floated off into the void, murmured too quietly for me to hear.
One in which love never had the chance to blossom fully but every chance to creep into the little cracks in my seasoned heart.
Despite it all, I live for the love stories and believe fiercely that they have the last word on this thing called life. Love is the very essence that carries us through it and, no matter how it unfolds, I carefully store every memory of love that has punctuated my world, quietly comforted by its presence, no matter how fleeting.
The truth is that I’m a romantic at heart.
When I fall in love, I fall hard. So hard, in fact, that it can be the very undoing of me. Every cell in my body will become invested in this blossoming relationship, and the…
