I think I could fall in love with anyone. I'm addicted to the feeling of allowing my trepidations to be dispelled and letting my walls crumble to let myself become consumed by the insanity of love.

I like to think I see the beauty in people that they can't see themselves.

Really it is the feeling of surprise, of being confronted by the possibility of closeness with another, that gets hold of me. The initial wariness, engendered by the remembrance of things past, gradually supplanted by a feeling of optimism for the future, followed by utter mania. Being consumed by a person, almost unable to eat or sleep for excitement.

Then another feeling - anxiety, because of course this person cannot actually be what I expect of them, of course they can never be the thing that finally completes me. They live their own life entirely outside of mine and that upsets me.

How can I be frustrated if someone that I barely know is reluctant to spend all of their free time with me?

I do it to myself; I imagine the future with this person, I make plans for all the things I'll do with them, I allow myself to be taken with the possibility of a life with them. Before I even really know them.

If one doesn't forgo romanticism and idealism of their own accord, this disposition will be rightfully beaten out of them by repeated failure.

No one is entitled to the feelings of another. The expression of romantic feelings should be regarded as a very serious and risky task that is likely to cause pain for the confessor and awkwardness for the recipient.

So, I become anxious and almost possessive. I have made myself emotionally vulnerable to another, and now I'm like putty in their hands. If they disown me now, I will be inconsolable.

But I'm sure that some part of me must be addicted to feeling of the end, the feeling that this person is now slipping through my fingers, and my increasingly desperate attempts to show them that I am still worthy of their affection. "Please, hold me now, for I'll be miserable if you go away." And the feeling that I've put them off, that they are disgusted with my grasping out and attempting to hold onto them.

It was something that happened when I was a child. My father was always busy with work. My mother felt neglected and resentful. My mother drank. And I had no one to support me at a time when I felt alone.

I have never really felt worthy of love. How could I? Everyone I've ever loved or needed has left me.

Some people become guarded, afraid of getting close to people. But I feel I have so much love to give. It's the only reason I have to cling onto life.

But in reality, I've never really loved another. If true love exists then it is in self-sacrifice. Forgetting about one's own feelings in order to help another soul.

She was so beautiful, so sublime and perfect in my eyes. Her absence has, if anything, strengthened my feelings for her. But I wasn't good enough for her - ultimately I was another person who only wished to control her, to force her to feel for me what I felt for her. We had good times and bad times. I told her I wanted to work through the challenges because I cared for her, but she didn't feel the same. But I didn't give love and acceptance freely, it was conditional, the implicit self-serving nature of it was evident.

Maybe true love is knowing when to be self-serving and when to offer unconditional support. I wasn't right for her and she probably wasn't right for me.

The pain will fade. The self-indulgent wallowing doesn't really matter. Do it and get back up. If you want to drive your car into a wall, then good. It means you're alive and you have some capacity for feeling left in you after all.

God placed her into my life for a reason. It matters, but it will feel less important with time. Don't make yourself forget about her. Keep her in your heart. Pray for her to be happy and to feel the love that you couldn't give her. Forgive her transgressions and pray for the strength to grow and to give love freely once again.