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My First Love

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Throughout my life, for many different reasons, I have never felt completely accepted. I've never been a part of anything; never felt that deep connection to another person. No matter how many people I surround myself with, all my relationships, be they familial, friendly, or romantic, remain superficial, and I am lonely.

I was raised in the Rogue River Valley, the very heart of Southern Oregon, surrounded by endless treas and mountains and countless bodies of water. It was here that I came to know the only woman who always accepts me, never accuses me, and loves me unconditionally. She asks only to be loved and respected in return.

I learned at an early age that no matter what ills I suffer at the hands of the world I can always return to her. She caresses me with long blades of grass, delicate flower petals and feather-soft leaves. She cradles me in moist earth, allowing me to shed my tears as a breeze whispers comfort to my soul.

She welcomes me just as graciously when I have a smile on my face, embracing me in cool lake waters, leaving a warm kiss of the sun upon my cheeks. With her I am never lonely. In her arms is the only place I feel truly safe. In the midst of a concrete jungle, I have only to walk through a park or look up to the sky to feel her presence. Each moment I am separated from her, I long to be with her. She is the air I breathe, the plants that nourish me, and the water of life that wets my lips. Without her I don't exist.

Someday I hope to find a person of flesh and blood to spend my life with. Someone to love and be loved by. Someone to share my world with, walking down wooded paths together, sleeping with nothing to cover us but the stars and surrendering ourselves to the chill of a mountain stream. But no matter how intensely I feel, that love can never surpass the depth and strength of the perfect love I feel for nature.

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