Reached the limit? Really?

If it has a limit, it ain’t love... perhaps it never was.

But there’s this other thing, the craving to feel valued.

Oh when that thirst isn’t quenched - I’m upset, I feel petty, I’m easily aggravated, I lean into abstractions.

“I might just move on, yeah - she’s has this all wrong. She doesn’t love me anyway. Why should I be the only one fighting for resolution? This is supposed to go both ways!”

Who is this really about? Is it about love or is it about me? When I mature enough to want the best for her, without considering self preservation, without charging her to fill my voids so that she can fly free, without lying to myself about why I’m here... that’s when I loved. Now, how many people have you loved?