A poetically written rant/essay.

“Why won’t you love me,” she whispered to the ghosts. She whimpers to her Ancestors about nothing other than you. So much so, that they grow weary of hearing about you. The ceaseless chattering about her desire for the one who looks away, is very depressing to them.

They are her family, and family looks after their own. They don’t want to see her cry and they don’t want to hear the negative way he treats her. But she stammered, “He does nice things for me too, and he doesn’t always treat me badly. I just have a very human disposition to only focusing on the bad parts. When I should be glorifying him.”

And there in lies the trouble. When she speaks about him, usually it’s only the tumultuous side of their relationship that gets expanded upon. And I feel many people do get caught up in that trap. We tend to focus on the dirty stains more than the pretty dress. It’s the age old question, why do people like the uber-macho jerk over the nice, sweet, and innocent guy?

She asks her self that question all of the time. “Why can’t I love a nice, talented, man who will treat me with respect and dignity. Why do I like being degraded so much?” she questioned her self. Is it my low self esteem, daddy issues, or does the sour make the sweet just taste that much better?

She tapped her pen, and pondered that for a second. She thought, in her case, it is more that the sour makes the sweet just that much sweeter. For one ounce of a sweet gesture from him and she felt emotionally full for a week. She could live off of just hearing his voice. She could slide down the notes it makes and sink into his heart.

A lot of the time, the harsh criticisms that he has dealt out, were correct about her. Although, his delivery could be better, nicer even, they were full of truths she did not want to face. Usually, they also were in her best interests. Maybe I’m just a brat, she thought, and maybe I’m rebelling against his authoritative stance. She has been a rebel with out a cause for too long now.

Underneath it all he does care for her deeply, otherwise he would not show any interest in her well being. But it’s more that he has a harsh way of showing it and the truth is, he may only care more for her as a friend more than anything else. And that truth stings her brain cells. “Why won’t he love me as deep as I love him,” she pouted to her Spirits. Their reply was silence. And her tarot cards said nothing on that subject.

There are no easy answers on this subject called love. The heart is mysterious, and inventive. One may never get to the bottom of another’s true heart, even in several lifetimes. Some are so protected and jaded that their heart has turned to stone. Others their emotions have shattered so many times that there are permanently pieces missing. And some just have it too easy.

Not her though, she is still holding onto her dreams. That one day, he will come around and say those three special words. The kinda fairy tale she’s been telling her self for years now. The one that still has not come. So she longingly questions again, “Why won’t you love me?” The ghosts just sigh.

I have a few books published on Amazon. My newest book is called, “The Firestorm of Tears.”

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