first_and_last FA113N I used to think that when someone said that the person they love was the first thing they thought about when they woke up, and thelast thing they they thought about before they slept that it was romantic bollocks. Because, I reasoned, you wake up, go to the loo, start your day then maybe have thoughts about other people. Not anymore. Now I get it. Now I understand. It is so ironic, so poetic, that I only understand love now. That I only understand it when I have a love that will never ever be returned. When I know, with absolute certainty that I will never be with the woman I love. That could feel like a punishment, like justice, and once maybe it would have. But now it feels beautiful, and I do not resent it at all. In a way, I feel it makes it purer, more special, because love without hope, without the complications of friction between bodies, it is simple and honest, and she knows I love her, not because she loves me, not for that thing she does with her tongue, not because I fear abandonment, but simply because she is her. The her that she is, she is beautiful and strong and perfect, imperfections and all, and I would not change a thing. She would not be the woman I love if she came to me in secret on a cold night. And she never would. This makes me love her more. 130214 what's it to you? who go blather from