What if that love was only fractionally given, leaving a sense memory of what is longed for but can no longer be fulfilled?
I am fascinated by irony. Totally in love with it. It is intriguing, baffling, infuriating, elucidating, and brimmed with absurdity.
Perhaps, to believe in nothing, but to love everything, is the only chance we have at peace. I still prefer to believe in myself than to believe in love.
One simple way of sparking the relationship again is to recall how you felt when you first fell in love and the times you shared together.
In this story, we realize that it’s not the behavior that’s important, it’s the energy driving the behavior: is this coming from fear or love?