It's 2 a.m....

It's 2 a.m. I lay in bed, my heart pounding in my chest like the steady, easy pace of a stampede. Can I sleep? Should I even try? It is, perhaps, in this witching hour, that my pen can truly fly unfettered.

They say that love is a many splendored thing. But as with any unquantifiably beautiful thing, it holds the sinister notion of fear. Fear of loss. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. Fear that love will be everything the poets wrote about...and that you are a wretched and undeserving thing.

But perhaps this is love's greatest achievement. Love doesn't conquer those fears, but rather turns them into trifles. Childish ghost stories, no more threatening than the mysterious wraiths that once haunted our nursery. Nothing more now, than shadows on a wall and laughter at the ignorance of youth.

Yes, love conquers all. But only if we open our hearts and find a way to allow it to.