I understand that writing about my failed relationships is cliche, but to be honest those are the only relationships I have had.

As much as I wish I could still believe that I have a chance at finding someone with mutual feelings of connection, it’s silly and not true.

I like to reduce my inability to find a partner to the blanket statement that I was raised by wolves. There was no love in the home I grew up in. There was alcohol, violence, mental illness, and crank. The love I have is the love I am seriously blessed to recieve from my children. It wasn’t until my first child was born until I had been loved in any matter at all. I would testify my entire childhood was spent crying for different parents to show up and sweep me away; and at least 15 years carrying a brick in my chest for an unrequited first love. The remainder of years were followed by a series of smaller, but devestating, heartbreaks.

I was raised by wolves: It’s a gentle reminder to not pine over individuals of the opposite sex that I adore. I’m unrefined, and unlovable. At best, someone will fool me into trusting them, with the intention of selling my pelt.

Onward and upward, or whatever really white ppl say.

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