A Human Thing

They say that you can’t love someone until you love yourself. From what I understand, it is true.

Love is like a door in the heart, but you, the owner, have the keys and locks. If you close your own self off from it, how can you give or receive it?
Love, is like a portal. Once you love yourself, it’s like stepping on to a another realm, another world. All that you known, finally clicks. Your axis, you’re compass finally rights itself. You see from a different angle with inner knowledge you found on your journey. You can finally treat people the way you want to be treated. 
Once you step through the portal, you are now a dimensional traveler. Now that you passed the first round, you can keep finding more bits of yourself, because you will always find more. As you walk across the planes of acceptance, the next step up is receiving. Until you are settled with yourself, you’ll never understand how worthy you are of another’s love. The next plane after that is giving. 

In other words: Love is also like thermodynamics. It can never be destroyed or created, just recycled. Changed. Evolved. It’s hard enough accepting yourself, but to accept another, that is truly one of the greatest gifts to receive. Once you’ve mastered that world, you can call yourself a human. They are meant to love and be loved by one another, the emotion more binding and knitting than the blood in their veins. 

I understand the steps, but somehow can’t seem to love myself no matter how much I tried. If loving makes us human, than I guess I must be alien. Foreign to that feeling. I watch from a distance, those humans who filiter about in their worlds making a their grim reality brighter. I reach out to touch, but I can’t seem to enter any plane. So I sit, watching those humans thrive off an emotion that can make or break you. How do they survive on that thing called love?