I have found almost everything ever written about love to be true. Shakespeare said, Journeys end in lovers meeting.

What an extraordinary thought. Personally, I have not experienced anything remotely close to that but I’m more than willing to believe Shakespeare had. I suppose I think about love more than anyone really should. I’m constantly amazed by its sheer power to alter and define our lives. It was Shakespeare who also said, “Love is blind.“ Now, that is something I know to be true. For some, quite inexplicably love fades. For others love is simply lost. But then, of course, love can also be found. Even if just for the night. And then there’s another kind of love. The cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. It’s called unrequited love. Of that, I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories? Those of us who fall in love alone. We are the victims of the one-sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones. The walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space. Yes, you are looking at one such individual. And I have willingly loved that man for over three miserable years. The absolute worst years of my life. The worst Christmases, the worst birthdays. New Year’s Eves brought in by tears and Valium. These years I’ve been in love have been the darkest days of my life all because I’m cursed by being in love with a man who does not and will not love me back. Oh, God, just the sight of him. Heart pounding, throat thickening, absolutely can’t swallow. All the usual symptoms.