Love, forgotten.

I have hurt someone I love. I didn't mean to do it, but I did.

It seems I don't know how to love, to truly love, to accept another's little traits and habits that bother me. To just accept the one I love entirely for who they are.

I thought I knew everything of love. I thought I could accept, forgive, even ignore differences between us, between who we are fundamentally as individuals, and let love override all of that and let love be all it is supposed to be.

But, apparently, I can't do it. Or at least do it correctly. I am flawed. My heart is broken in more than one way, and it was I who broke it.

The only conclusion I can come to is this: I don't know how to love anymore. I am damaged goods. I am an incomplete soul. Somewhere, somehow, sometime in my life, the capacity to truly love someone I once had - that limitless reservoir of surrender, forgiveness, acceptance, and undying admiration - has diminished. The reservoir is now but a muddy pond devoid of beauty.

Perhaps this is my just desserts. Perhaps God is teaching me that I have become someone He didn't design me to be. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. I do not know.

I dreamed of holding the treasure of love, and sharing it with someone with joy. But it seems I hold no treasure, only the empty chest it once occupied.

I once loved. This I know in my heart of hearts. I once loved. I once held that treasure and shared it zealously, maybe overzealously. Maybe I gave my part of the treasure away completely. I don't know what has become of me.

It seems I have forgotten how to love. What good is life now?

You will never know how I feel, unless...

Unless you have been so desperate for love, that you would give up your dreams, your hopes, and much of yourself to get it, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have sacrificed an education, adventure, a career (or two) and hope, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have spent the better part of your adult life living for everyone else but yourself, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have had your heart ripped out and stomped on, and then handed back to you by those you love the most, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have been hurt in your deepest soul, and forced a smile, you will never know how I feel.

Unless it's been so long since you've lived for yourself you've forgotten what you like, how to have fun, what sincere laughter is, what joy feels like, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have been depressed, suicidal, so anxious you felt like you'd explode, and on so much medication to remedy these things that you wonder if you even have real feelings anymore, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have overcome the odds to become a part of a profession of honor, and done everything it takes to perform that profession with honor, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have been hated because of what you represent, spit on, beaten, kicked, cursed, covered in every imaginable disgusting substance, seen, smelled, touched, and dealt with things no human should have to, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have seen death, smelled death, and caused death, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you realize that everyone can be hurt by words as well as deeds, no matter how tough they seem, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have learned that the problems in everyone's life are relative in size to that individual, you will never know how I feel.

Unless you have the stones to put something like this out there for the whole world to see, and to form their own opinions of you and what you think, you will never know how I feel.

Then again, how I feel may not be any of your business.

Should've, would've, could've.

Almost a year ago, I had it so good, but didn't know it. At some point in there, I believed it was time to change my life. The first step was to rid myself of a career that I had at one time believed was the only job I'd ever loved.

That was my first mistake.

The second mistake was that I believed a childhood friend when he told me what I wanted to hear. Great job. Big money. Better benefits. More appreciation. Less stress.

The rush to make that mistake cost me more than I want to admit.

The childhood friend was an inept boss, and the job was not what was promised. Surprise, surprise.

Mistake number three: quitting the job before I had any other source of income lined up, and no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life at 41.

No thought to those around me and how my decisions were affecting them. No thought to the fact that I have maybe 25 years of my working life left. Career decisions should have been made long ago, right?

Quit the lie of a job, tried to go back to the place, people, and job I loved, only to be told. "we don't want you back." Try letting go of that one.

For three months, which is eternity to me, I tried to find "a job" doing anything where I might fit in and find happiness. I died a little more each day.

Somehow, I fell back into the first career field, just with a different agency. I grasped at it like a drowning man reaches for a life ring. They pulled me into their ship. Rescued.

One problem. Still having trouble letting go of the first job I should have never left. Hindshight is 20/20, and it hurts like hell. Moving forward is like stretching out burnt skin to get your mobility back.

Trying like hell to move on an think of only today. No future, no past. Just get through the day and try to live instead of merely surviving.

41 years old. Too late to try to find lost dreams? Too late to...do anything different? Too late to love again? Where is my heart that stayed on fire for so many of my younger years? Where is my determination to look at the long term, the big picture? Are you there?

I should have never quit. I should have not left the occupation that had been so good to me. The job that was so much more than a job. The friends that were brothers and sisters. The honor. The memories made and ones to be made. Too late now. Time to make new ones, I guess.