The world begins and ends with love. In a womb, the child begs to be loved, to be adored, and our ignorance of the importance of love comes in time. We are raised to be distant, we are pushed to do so because those that love us do not want us to be disappointed. They do not want to hear the weeping. Some grow cold, some lukewarm, and the others are perilously burning up inside. I do not know my category, but I do know that my distance can not be blamed entirely on others. I will grow old and either more loving or less. I do hope to be relentless, but who is there to be relentless to? I feel myself unable to…