Victims of our own romanticism, we are. All too often we are caught buying into the version of “love” that we have been fed; two halves of a whole - both incomplete without the other. But, I am not. I am whole. Complete; as is the love that I experience.

Our expectations rob us of the chance to love infinitely, wholly.

My survival is not dependent on any other, nor is my capacity to love dependent on whether that love is returned; without expectation… and I will.

Sometimes, 1 + 1 = 1.