i have found almost everything written about love to be true.

Shakespeare said, "Journeys end in lovers meeting." Extraordinary thought.  Personally, I have yet to find anything remotely close to that but I'm more than willing to believe Shakespeare had. I suppose I think about love more than anyone really should.  I am constantly amazed by its shear power to alter and define our lives.  It was Shakespeare who also said, "Love is blind." Now that is something I know to be true.

For some, quite inexplicably, love fades. 

For others, love is simply lost.

But then of course, love can also be found--even if just for the night.

And then there's another kind of love; the cruelest kind.  The one that almost kills its victims.  It's called unrequited love.  Of that, I am an expert.  Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other; but what about the rest of us?  What about our stories--those of us who fall in love alone?  We are the victims of the one-sided affair, we are the cursed of the loved ones, the unloved ones, the walking brain-dead, the handicap without the advantage of a great parking space.

Although this may not be a new idea-being in love with a man that does not love me back-it does not make the thought of it any more bearable.

Just some insight into my own missed connection.