Love

I look at posts in my old blog, from when I first met him. The happiness I express seems so strange now. I know that I love him and don't want to be anyone else. But I don't feel the same enthusiasm and optimism.

I don't believe that I've ever actually been happy. I can recall writing those things and know that I did mean them at the time. But I'm so sad lately that it all seems foolish.

I used to think being in love would make things easier, that it would make life seem more worth living. Most of the time it just doesn't. Maybe I've started to take it for granted; having someone around who will likely always accept me, love me, understand me. It's just so hard to be happy with someone when you're not happy with yourself.