“Why didn’t she love me?” I cried out into the empty dark space. I fell to my knees, tears raining down my face, sobs racking my body. “She did. She does,” a voice answered. And there lies the crux of the problem. She did love me, but I couldn’t feel it from behind the wall where she hides, in fear, guilt, and shame. The root of my feeling unlovable was because she was behind a wall she built and couldn’t, wouldn’t, break down. She made all of the right motions, but if you can’t feel it, does it exist? Yes.