What is this Thing Called, Love?

I guess it is dawning on me that the now-mythical horseshit I went through last year with the ex has scarred and twisted me more than I ever realized. Deep within, a hatred is roiling that I fear I will never quell, and I only have myself to thank for the mess.

All I had to do was open my heart when the first request came in. I did not, and the rest is history. No use bitching about it, I guess, and I'll move on. Just thinking out loud. Felled by my own axe. Insert cliche here, I am too weary to continue.