There are so many stories, stories about love. And love itself, isn't it such a story. An endless tale of triumph and glory, of pain and sorrow, love is a tale of disillusionment. The irony seems to be, and I have yet to discover for myself, is you can't truly have an account of love until first you face the harsh disillusionment of it. And maybe that isn't entirely true, well at least the part about me. I think I have had all the disappointments realized about love, in my past, in my present, and more than likely in my future. As I am sitting here wondering if my heart will ever fully warm, possibly ever burn with pure passionate love. I am afraid of becoming cynical, towards the idea, the notion, the fairy tale of love. Maybe I am not one who is bothered by love, or maybe I am so scared I just shut it out at the first signs. Which ever it is I am left feeling empty. Even as I crawl into bed, next to my partner. This man I love, This man who loves me, and yet we are so unhappy. There is no logical reason why, it just is so it seems. WHY!? I mean really why? How can one not be completely in love with someone who loves them in return, who takes care of them, who never makes them feel special, or makes any special effort to just say how much they do love you. Yet I stay, and he stays. I told someone I love very dearly just yesterday, change is hard but do not fear it, it could be the best thing that has ever happened to you. But what do I know. I know this, I must stop watching the damn love channel at night alone and then listening to Norah Jones, I think that could probably make anyone question their love. Maybe, maybe I am searching within myself for something I have yet to fully understand due to the lack of it. Ahhhhh! Love, isn't it just a story like the tooth fairy, or is it real. I myself may never know.