Just a blip of fictional writing that may or may not go farther some day.
“You speak to me of love, but what is love that I should even want it? The only kind of love I have ever known is the kind that consumes. It only values what it can take from me. What is love that doesn’t devour in return for its affection? I don’t know it , don’t believe in it, and I don’t want it.”
The man across from her listened closely to the heartbreak that underscored the harsh tone and words. His heart and eyes filled with sorrow at a world so broken that even love could be distorted to the point that someone would feel safer without it. Of course he knew that the love she was talking about was not love at all, but only a monster named Selfishness masquerading as love. He had to choose his next words carefully, but no matter what he chose to say, he also knew that they would be meaningless, even more damaging if he wasn’t prepared to follow them up with actions. His ability to teach what love is was only as good as his ability to show it consistently and over time.
“The love you described is not love. Real love does not devour or consume, it builds up and strengthens. It gives of itself to bring a person to better, not just to make them more comfortable in their broken-ness. If we allow someone to see us as and use us as an object that is there merely for their pleasure we are only making them more comfortable in their unhealthy broken appetite. We are not leaving them or us better. Likewise if we only want someone to be there for our pleasure we for sure aren’t truly loving and valuing them, or ourselves. True, real love starts by knowing our own value and then offering that same value to someone else. Cheapening your value cheapens the love that you are able to give and be given.
