I agree with my friends assessment of real love. Yet even as I acknowledged the truth, my heart still cared.
There was no potential for a real love with him. I accepted it, forced myself to clear the emotions, tried hating him, and in time let go of him.
Love had perseverance. Real love entered my dreams. My subconscious would seek ways to be reminded of him. Months passed. Love argued with my mind to hope when it was hopeless.
Love is the highest force. It was a worthy opponent to an equally formidable intellectual will to erase him from my memory.
Other people seemed stronger, more mentally healthy, and just better at dating than I. Why couldn’t I just shake off the letdown in a week? Love is relentless.
Love wants to live. Love has its own rhythm. Love doesn’t turn off like a light switch.
Eventually, love returned to me. After ignoring myself I decided to make my mind my friend. How? Turning the love inward to self-love.
Self-love was the magic potion, to turn my feelings for him to apathy. The elixir is self-love. It’s a vaccine. Self-love makes you immune to the dark side of love.
Love is relentless. So self-love can only be a good thing.
When I finished writing this essay, Brett sent me a text.
“Ok, I’m packing up my room.”
He leaves town in four days. I’ll miss our faux flirting like Derek and Penelope on the TV show Criminal Minds. Unsurprisingly, I’m not feeling sad.