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I am a storm of two conflicting truths.

It hurts. It hurts so much when they don’t love me like I love them. I try so hard. I try to be my best self. The best I can possibly be. And that’s simply not someone that they love back.

I can’t understate the agony of being truly vulnerable, wearing my heart on my sleeve and letting them in, to see the real me, only for them to not love what they see.

And yet

And yet

And yet

I refuse to live a life where I don’t tell the people that I love, that I love them. I refuse to keep my love a secret. I can’t pretend. I can’t lie. The pain of unrequited love can exist within me at the same time as my desire to share, to express it.

I have one life. And I have so much love to give. I don’t want to regret.

Even if they don’t love me back, I can know that I’m capable of loving, and they can know they are loved.

—Izolda Roo

[cookie-fort]

Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus

“Even a meaningless life gains meaning by living it consciously.”

So, I live every day searching for meaning. That itself has become the meaning of my life.