"I love you," I say.

"You love me? What's love? What do you think love is?" I say back.

"Love… you know, the stuff they talk about in the Bible. I don’t think they tell you what love is, but they sure tell you everything it isn’t."

"It’s not jealousy. It’s not pride. It’s not anger, or evil, or conditional. I can’t remember the rest."

"Alright," Love says. "So you love me? You’re sure about this?"

"Who are you?" I ask. "If I’m Alex, who are you?"

"I’m Love," it answers, "the great destroyer. You suffer so much because you keep running away from me."

"If you loved me, why are you making me suffer like this?"

"Because you think that pain means I don’t love you?" Love almost laughs. "Suffering is your gift, Alex. It brings you to me. But you keep trying to escape it. You have to grieve. You have to cry. You have to let go of everything you believe, everything you thought love was, so you can learn the truth."

"And what’s the truth?"

"The truth is, you’re me," it says, its voice quiet now. "I am love. And love is you."

"I don’t believe you."

"There you go, still believing in things. Belief is just another way to avoid the truth."

"Don’t run away, Alex." It’s not a request anymore; it’s a command. "Surrender. Nothing can love you like I can. I’m love. Who else is going to love you?"