I have had the opportunity to fall madly in love and believe I would be in love forever three times.

The three men I gave myself blindly to taught me I was actually wrong. Not all along, but just for a brief moment. They thought me to doubt me and as I doubted myself, I learned something else entirely new:

I was right.

Romance is not the type of struggle you would imagine. It’s not a struggle, at all. I always knew how to feel it, it comes naturally, and at last, I find no shame in facing it.

As I struggle for other things in life I know this: love is not a struggle, it’s the eye of the storm where you are just as safe and just as absolutely vulnerable as you possibly can and yet, you don’t need shelter, you don’t need to find a way out. You accept it gladly. Both of you.

It’s a clichê because we all have it in us, some of us take longer to grasp, some don’t.

I never lost it and I as much as I would like to teach those men what I’ve learned, I know I can’t. I’m sure they will figure this out too once they doubt themselves first.

After all, every quest for meaning starts with a question.