Dear Love,

I thought I’d found you. He was debonair and suave. He was brilliant and successful. He was everything I had ever wanted a in man. He was amazing. There was only one thing wrong with him. He never loved me. And I knew it. I thought I could make him love me. I thought that if I loved him, if I gave him everything he’d every wanted. If I just did everything right. He’d reward me with his love. Even a little love would have done. I was will to settle for him loving what I was willing to give him. Not for him loving me.

But I was wrong. That never made him love me. And that’s where I feel I betrayed you. I betrayed what you symbolize. I sold out on real love because I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to have what everyone else had. I gave up on you because I thought that you were taking to long to find me. But I always knew that you were real love. That I would get lost in my love for you. That there would never be restraints or restrictions on our love. I always knew that you would truly love me forever and unconditionally. I know that your love will be unpredented, boundless, and will last for all eternity. I know that it will transcend time. And I know that your love can bring me back from the dead…

I know this becaue without you I feel dead inside. I feel unworthy, lost and scared. I’m scared that I’m writing these letter to myself. That your not real or that you won’t find me. Sometimes I give into my fears, and I to stop waiting for you. Then I hear a love song and I realize thats what i deserve. I deserve a love like those. One for the story books. I deserve your love. And I know that all these failed attempts will only bring you closer to me. I know that your real because your a part of me. I feel you. I know your waiting paciently for me. And I know that when I find you. It will be the best day of my life. And I will look back on all these mistakes with such gratitude because without them I never would have found you. I never would have know what real love is. And I do. It’s unconditional. And it’s meek. It’s passionate and pure. Real love never dies so neither will mine.

Tatiana