I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda

“At that moment it seemed to him that time stood still, and the Soul of the World surged within him. When he looked into her dark eyes, and saw that her lips were poised between a laugh and silence, he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke- the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart. It was love. Something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. Something that exerted the same force whenever two pairs of eyes met, as had theirs here at the well. She smiled, and that was certainly an omen- the omen he had been awaiting, without even knowing he was, for all his life. The omen he had sought to find with his sheep and in his books, in the crystals and in the silence of the desert. 

     It was the pure Language of the World. It required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no words, she recognized the same thing. He was more certain of it than anything in the world. He had been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before committing. But maybe people who felt that way had never learned the universal language. Because when you know that language, its easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether its in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and that incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, ones dreams would have no meaning. 

Maktub, thought the boy.”

Two days before it all went down, Mikey and I were sitting alone in my car in a WeHo parking structure, Vodkas in hand, having a heart to heart while we were waiting for the others to arrive. We were talking about how different things are now. Just four years ago I was living a completely different life. A life that I hated. Not sure who I was. Confused about everything. Hanging out with people I didn’t like just to try and fit into this mold of what I thought was normal. And then one day everything clicked. I was exposed to Gay Hollywood, and it felt like home. I told him about how happy I was that this path lead me to exactly where I always wanted to be. Absolutely and positively head over heels in love with the girl who I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I gushed about how happy I was, and he listened. He told me how happy he was for me and that he really saw what I was talking about. He agreed that we were perfect together. You have no idea how good it was to hear that phrase. Because it was a phrase that not one friend or acquaintance had ever said to me before. Two days after talking about how happy I was, just two days later, everything, once again, changed. 

Its weird. How everything can change so quickly. Everything you thought you knew was a lie. Everything you had pictured for your future is destroyed. The person that you thought you knew so well, is now a stranger. The person that you loved with all your heart, is now your worst enemy. It’s been a month now of picking of the pieces of my shattered self. I feel like I’m getting stronger. Every second  of the day is pain and hurt. But I am getting better at blocking it out. However, I have realized that when I block it out, it doesn’t really go away. It just seems to pile up. It sits there inside of me like a plague, and it waits. And all it takes is the slightest trigger, and I explode. An explosion happened this morning. The trigger this time: Seeing a picture. A picture that told me what I already knew. But just because I already knew it, didn’t make it hurt any less. I cried for nearly an hour. I cried so hard it made me throw up. The fact that someone could have such control over me, mentally and physically, made me feel even worse. Is this my fault for giving someone so much of myself?

No. I will not blame myself for this pain any longer. What kind of person acts like this? What kind of a person can be so incredibley horrible? Using people like they are possessions. The amount of pain she has caused me, I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I’m a good person. I was good to her. I was loyal to her. I always had her back. I loved her. And she crushed me. But worst of all, she has created hate in my heart. Because I literally hate her with all of my being. I forgave her and forgave her and forgave her, over and over again. All because I loved her so dearly. And now that she has sucked me dry, all I am left with is anger and hate.