I did it for the love. Because I hoped my love would be so contagious my pupils could not be quarantined, forever in a love triangle with words, language, learning. As I have been. But I have stood alone in the rain, a fool whose love was not admired nor envied, but mocked. Penetrating their shell of materialism and status (updates), where image trumps imagery, is impossible. Rather, it’s the kind of love that breeds resentment. For a love unrequited leaves the heart scorned. I will find another way to share my love, before I’m too bitter to remember what matters most.