Of course I was going to try to make my fucked-up first relationship work. I was young, and "in love". I put up with him being jealous and paranoid of...well, everything. I distanced myself from friends and became disillusioned.
The creativity inside me burrowed into the deepest depths of myself and remained in the dark...decaying, dying, almost lost forever.
He was stubborn, I was stubborn. Clashing. Resisting. Challenging. Crying. We were unnecessary burdens of pain on each other.
Maybe I was a coward or just plain stupid...It was like Dr. Jekyl and Hyde, I couldn't love one without the other.
But...one day I woke up and stopped crying. I realized it wasn't normal for the person who claims to love me to make me feel so...alone.
That's karma bitch. That's what I get...Or so I thought.
I blamed myself for...many things. Was I really so horrible, though?
No one, and I mean no one, should have to give up their dreams, desires or feelings in order to please your significant other, partner, lover, wooer...Romeo or Juliet. If there is a fire in you to pick up and do something, something passionate you want to breathe into life, that person should feel that fire with you and support you...whether they understand it or not.
Love is a search. It is a will to live life the way you want it. It's waiting for the one person who will take you for who you are, defend you, make you stronger, instead of holding you down.
That is my hope...my hope for love. And don't you doubt I will keep searching for the true form of it.
The waves of tears and the crying hangovers seem like a far away nightmare now.
(If I had a better microphone, I would do a VO)