Exclusionary tale

Love is piercing, love is painful because by its ontology it forces you to see and feel how life would be without it. And because I can’t possess it, because I can’t bottle it, because I can’t be sure it’ll stay after all the scary things I had to see, I’m afraid. I’m afraid because once I see the background of the ambiguous gestalts I see in the world I can no longer go back to squeezing in maybes and pinning escapist hopes onto them. I know it and it knows me. Love separates before it joins and I’m deathly afraid it’ll separate me and deem me unfit to belong. I can’t risk being alienated from the one thing I need the most in life. So I alienate myself.

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