Moses

In any honest pursuit of love, one must begin with parents. It is through them that we learn the ways of our hearts.

My parents died when I was three and half. But, to be honest, saying they're died isn't completely true. It wasn't a car accident, they weren't lost hiking. They just both happened to disappear from my life at the exact same time. They could be alive and I just don't know. But how alive can anyone truly feel when you don't have any memories of them? But beyond memories, there is the unquestionable truth of a child's bond to his or her parents. They may both be gone, but I am flesh of their flesh. I lived, heart to heart, with one of them for nine months. For this reason and many more, I will always bear their sorrow. I know I am incomplete and if either one of them has even a fraction of a human heart, they too are incomplete.

Romance subsists on the notion that we all--each and everyone of us--has a soul mate; someone who completely, unquestionably satisfies our most obscure needs. The hope and faith that this individual 1. exists and 2. has hope and faith in us is central to the romantic heart. This enabling force guides us through the dark. And as we, time after time, crash into a constant barrage of our own let down and betrayal, our only immediate consolation is the ability to share our scars, tracing them with our fingers as we foolishly navigate our blindness, until one day we find ourselves motionless at the feet of our longing.

My biggest challenge is not finding someone to love, rather it is waiting for the right love to emerge on it's own time. I want to be like Moses before the burning bush; so dedicate to truth he'd wait for wisdom from the absurd.