Every time I rant to myself about love or relationships, I think through my problems, and the problems of others, and while I don’t have everything exactly right, I know I have it right enough, and am open to better thoughts if they do come.
But thought fails to satisfy, utterly fails to satisfy. It feels like the best part of me is wasting away.
I don’t know how to make myself any stronger. I keep telling myself that this self-pity is stupid, for others are going through so much worse, and that anger in my case is far more justified than hope, despite the mistakes I made. None of those things work to satisfy, though they’re true. I still feel empty.
There is just no way to be loving and not have erotic love be engaged in some way, I don’t think. I know others are going through this problem, and I don’t want to say “my pain is so great.” Truth is, it’s a drop in the ocean, and all of us who want a more satisfying life while being willing to give have to find some way to stand strong in solidarity.
These are trying times for us. I used to think that the problem of not being loved “in that way” connected us with ages past. It does and it doesn’t. In ages past, people still got married and understood the value of family. This might be the first age that considers itself beyond all that, for we have complete control over reproduction and our morals through our technology and rhetoric. If that is the case, and part of me suspects it is, then this pain I’m feeling is a drop in the ocean before the flood. This is a pain that runs too deep among all of us to be acceptable by any measure, for it is as simple as what has been taken away from those of us who are loving is the ability to have what we do called “love” anymore.