I was pretty determined to be a child all my life. Young at heart, at least — whatever cliche suits you. An equally fueled determination of mine has been to find her. The perfect love that casts out all fear.

These two ambitions of mine, they fight themselves to the death.

I assume the author of The Little Prince coined that awesome line about love casting out all fear because he wanted love in a similar fashion that I imagine. Because love as we know it casts out nothing. You inherit another person’s fears and pains and losses, and all that’s cast out is everything that you thought you knew.

And the child in me is sent to his corner, disciplined and quieted for his persistent naievete, because he searched for love, found it and discovered that love is not enough. There’s commitment and time and passion and understanding and forgiveness and self-respect and hypocrasies upon hypocrasies that must be let go. The child thinks that love implies these things but really, the love is just a jumped-to conclusion.

Maybe it’s just my old age talking. Or maybe I’m just a perpetual lonely kid.