How the hell!?

This is going to be one of those few occasions where I actually say whatever the fuck I want to say.

How... the hell.

How the hell did I get to the point to where my life revolves around what people say or think?

How the hell did I get to the point where I care so much about what one person thinks or does that I govern all actions of my own accordingly?

How the hell did I get to the point where I was afraid to make a conclusion, based only on the fact that, if given enough time, said person would come through, thus proving me wrong?

How the hell did I allow myself to be wrong?

How the hell did I get to the point where I'd give this person so much fucking time to come through, that I'd bypass every gut feeling that says "Run! Run away!" and just allow myself to be the world's biggest schmuck?

I'll tell you why. Because there's no greater feeling than being in love. I can't say so honestly that I was in love with DC. In fact, I don't think I really am. I'm enamored with her, I'm infatuated with her. But I can safely say I know what it's like to be in love, and here it is:

She brought me closer than anyone else ever has to feeling like I was in love again.

But not close enough. It wasn't the real thing. It felt like a dream about a memory.

Yea, I was in love once. I was so in love that I ignored every signal that said "She's not right for you." I was so in love that, for the sake of being in love, I allowed several trespasses to occur, because I truly believed that no other love could make me feel the way she did.

And then, of course, I gave myself a reality check.

Here's the deal.

I loved someone so much that no matter what they did, I still tucked them in at night and watched them fall asleep. I loved someone so much that I felt for them as though they were my child-- a god-given child in the form of a grown woman-- one that had been given to me, and me only. Given to me so that I could take care of her, watch over her, and make sure nothing, absolutely nothing ever hurts her.

I loved her so much that even after she cheated on me, I never told anybody what she'd done. In fact, I let them make their own conclusions. And whenever someone asked me what went wrong, I said, "I did."

That's love. Schmuckish? Yep. Probably. But then again, what the fuck do you know?

Tonight, I've been reminded for the dozenth time that I will probably never again see love like that. I've been reminded that no matter how hard I try to be who I am: a person who is obviously deluded about their qualities; I will never, ever....

ever, be in love again.

I care too much about my life to give it up. So I'm pretty sure I'm going to become one of those guys who focuses every iota of his being to making money and never, ever being lost again.