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I remember perfectly scribed love letters and drunken emails I have written over the many years I've dated. For the various people I have dated- however random our encounters, however entranced the experience.
I remember how I told them they changed the way I thought about the universe, how they made all other men unattractive and that I would love them unconditionally even if we were never together again.
I hate that those emails still exist. But I don't hate them because what I said was false. I hate them because what I said was completely true. My convictions could not have been stronger when I typed those words, fingers flying determinedly over the keyboard, struggling to see, often through tear-streaked eyes.
I hate that for whatever reason, they still faded into nothingness.
Those times I have been certain I could never love anyone else and I was wrong every time. Those old love emails remind me of my emotional failure and my accidental lies.
The transcient forgetfulness of my love. This inherent incapability to remain hopelessly fascinated; yet this undying need to live through love.
Thou art did touch my soul. And I chose Life.