I am thankful for many things. I feel as if I need to rely on inspiration to do something.

I need a story, an event, something worthy of being written about, before I can put it to paper.

Perhaps , what really boggles my mind, is what I’m refusing to acknowledge, the present moment, that is.

The loss of love or the yearning to be loved.

Am I to do all this work to love myself? Can’t I depend on YOU to do it?

Who told us that someone has to be the pacifier of our yearning?

Is it the movies? Is it the reality we’ve come to observe and accept as ours?

Who taught me that I needed to love someone and I, in return, must force that connection and receive it in exchange?

Not sure.

But it does feel like work, to have to love oneself. To put in the work required. Its as if we’re difficult to love. So how can we expect someone else to love us?

Work, in my mind, is a combination of tasks, done at set intervals, continuously, in order to consume the end.

Perhaps I’m trying to find the end, because I believe I’m tired of putting in the work required to force a connection.

I’m depending on you to love me, because I do not love myself.