I figured once that love existed only outside of me.
That love only existed for the purpose of giving it, showing it, to another.
I hadn’t thought about me.
I figured.
That my ability to love existed only in an external form.
I looked forward to receiving something that I had yet to offer myself.
I hadn’t yet questioned my ability to recognise it though.
(Or how I would ever truly know)
Because, to me
I was a huge giver, a magnificent lover.
People just didn’t know how to receive.
I adorned only the love that was around me.
Independent of me.
Until I realised that a love given will always return to its default position.
The original Source.
I see now.
Whatever love I had given was destined to fail.
Not because love fails.
Because I had failed to love me.
One can only love another, as deeply as they have learned to love themselves.
Now I see.
The me who was loving you, was empty.
I wondered why my love did not last.
But it was because I had yet to start….
A love affair with me!
And what a pleasure it is….
