Sometimes I wonder why I do the things I do: why I stay in touch with certain people, why I attempt to maintain relationships, why I get so riled up about injustice, why it hurts me so much to think about what Randites and born-agains believe. Today, after another frustrating experience with a person who is perpetually disappointed in me, I realized that this is all because of love. I believe in almost nothing else, and I am an ardent, fervent, devout believer. If love exists in a situation, it must trump everything else, including respect and comfort and safety and even mental health. I still love people who have hurt me, and I'm sure that I've hurt people -- perhaps very much -- in the insistent ways I've loved them. I suppose there are situations where people are better off without love, better off with nothing instead. It's just too hard for me to abandon my belief in this one thing, as it's all I have.

The only option for me is to learn to love from a million miles away, learn to love and do nothing, learn to love and free myself from the expectation of being loved back. Plenty of people love me back just fine. The rest can only do their best, and do what's best for them.