My letter to love

Dear Love,
I am here with my heart in my hands, barely beating; bruised by every broken promise, by every act of infidelity, by every forever that seemed to never come. They tell me that with each bout of pain, I will get stronger. They tell me that I should leave my baggage at the door and go forward. Please, speak English to me, because I can’t comprehend how I am supposed to do these things.
Yes, I’ve gotten stronger. My heart isn’t as soft as it used to be. It is no longer three strikes and you’re out. Now it’s a fight just to get in and an even bigger one to get out. Now it’s “I’m watching you and the first time you screw up, I am checking out.” Ha! And my baggage, well it’s expensive and it’s just not that easy to leave it at the door. It’s my compass for learning. It provides the signs so that I can decipher the real baggage from the phony knock-offs.
But that’s neither here nor there. Dear Love, what do I do now? I’ve said every bad thing that I can think of and had every vile thought that a body should have. I’ve been called everything but the Elizabeth that my parents so purposed me to be called. I’ve taken on responsibilities which were not mine. I’ve tried to fix issues that were not mine, and at the end of the day, my mind, body and soul are tired. Sometime I can barely think straight. And when I get dressed, I don’t recognize the face looking back at me. Love, why have you taken such a toll on me? The songs and the greeting cards make you seem so kind and peaceful. Why have I been deceived?
Dear Love, I have written plans and goals. Why haven’t they come to pass? I’ve tried to be kind, but my words were taken for something other than their intent. I’ve tried to carry this load long enough, who will come and relieve me of it? Am I not allowed a break? Am I not allowed these tears that fall freely from my face like a leaky faucet? But when I cry, that is a problem. When I laugh, that is a problem. It seems, love, that in the end, the problem is simply me. Yet you won’t let me go.
Dear Love, I am all out of solutions. I am starting to loathe and despise you. Nothing I say or do ever seems to be well enough for you. And now I am empty. Please, don’t try to change my mind anymore. You don’t even respect me enough to stay your course, to speak kindly to me, to go above and beyond for me, to try to make me well when I am sick, to surprise me with small efforts of kindness and warmth. To hell with love and it’s siblings, because love obviously has no love for me at all.