I know love exists.
I have seen love in this world, the great kind of love, the kind of love that sacrifices everything and still manages to grow. I have seen love encompass people and places and generations. I have seen love restore lives to wholeness, I have seen love change and mold and spin itself into something that subsumes all and becomes something new, something better , something that glitters like sunlight on metal and snatches away the breath of everyone who looks upon it.
In all these manifestations of love, I have seen the face of God.
So when something curls up from my gut, an empty echo, black ink swirlign through the clear water of my soul. When that something says to me that I am not worthy of love, I am not worth loving, I don’t deserve love—
—well. there you go. Demons, obviously.