I have a story of love to tell. A story of love ruined by ruined loves gone past. And the cycle repeats. "If I had only met you when I was 25" then I would not be the man I am now. The man someone could fall in love with but not the man that can love. I am afraid of love, shaken by it, destroyed by it. I seek comfort in solitude, my children, my routines. But then I need to feel a touch, and embrace, another heart beating with mine.

I find myself at 48 middle aged and alone. Not wanting to hurt others even though I have. Not wanting to love others even though I have. It is time to take a break. To breathe. To find my spirit. To find how to walk again. To find how to live a different kind of life. Companionless perhaps, but not causing others pain. Loveless perhaps, but leaving the world no worse of a place than I found it.

I have a story of love to tell but I know not how.