The Death of Childhood Romance.

An excerpt from my entry:

Nonetheless, I enjoyed learning something I didn't realize before.
It's such a baffling thing to comprehend--to love with the eyes and not the head first is to make one's own heart treacherous, and confused. It causes destruction, deception, abuse, loneliness, and heavy consequences. I remember what love was to me before I could take off my rose colored 3-D glasses and before I could have left that dark place where my own emotions took the luxury of running away with me. I let them sweep me off my feet, dazzle me, carry me into a distant land, and leave me washed ashore, talking to someone I hardly knew hoping he would finally, "be the one". I remember him, him, him, and him. I remember the nights I should have spent with friends, I instead spent on dates. I remember when lust turned to drudgery. I remember most of all the joy of letting this deformed view leave my spirit. This desperation I shed like old skin. I remember laughing at myself as I watched the old me wash away. I remember crying because I could not give up trying to be a better me. And I exist in a place where love must be understood, not enigmatic, foggy, or in deceptive. I know who I love, and what it takes to love. I know the feeling is not based on anything other than learning another's soul and what connects the two of us. It is not bitter. It is not proud. It is constant, and not fleeting. It does not change with the seasons. It remains with me all the time...