I can say, “I love you,”
or I can tell you:
you are my means
and my end.
you are my how,
and my why.
Tag: love
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I cannot tell you how many times it’s felt like my heart has swelled near the point of bursting in my life. Like you’re so full of life and all it may entail that you could just pop.
It can swell with joy, with grief, with contentment, with love— today, it swells with joy and contentment alike. I cannot explain how happy I feel. Things just feel… right. Like finally making it out of a long, dark night. Dawn was last year. I enjoyed the Sunrise, but doubted the Sun would stay up for long.
Well, now it’s midday, and the Sun shows no sign of dimming, pinned firmly at a zenith.
I love this life. There’s that swelling feeling: gratitude, right now.
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the gravity of my own selfishness: how dare I wallow in my own shallow suffering, this kiddie pool I refuse to swim in, choose to drown in, while turning a blind eye to the ocean of pain in which the rest of the world treads?
sometimes it hits me full force: consumed by my own suffering, consumed by my own negativity, consumed by this void of my own making— the glass cracks, I see in full clarity my own pathetic weakness. so without purpose that I’ve created misty demons to slay myself. I spar with my own mind, ignoring the real fight.
hungry, hungry, hungry for purpose. take me out of myself. save me from myself. give me to service to escape the pit of my own mind. let me care for the welfare of another that I cease this selfish madness of constant self-pity. I am a man who inherited the world, yet convinced himself he had nothing.
this self-centered self pity, a leaden weight chained to the ankle. the masses carry the bolt cutters— to them I go
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Sometimes, you just need a message of hope. Something can only become a cliché if it is first a deep truth. So, here it goes:
You must, must trust that things will get better. You must. You must hope, you must have faith, you must believe. Hope is the seed of a bright future. Tell me: without hope, without the belief that things can improve, what else are you to do? It is not by magic that hope produces wonders; rather, it is the fuel that will keep you going, the fuel that lets you not just work wonders, but put in the work to create wonders.
You should believe that God, fate, the universe, will meet you halfway, maybe even 75% of the way if you can muster 25% — but one without hope is one who does not try. Stubborn optimism is sometimes the most practical thing a person can do, because without it, it is far too easy to excuse inaction. Why try if nothing can get better? But they who trust that life can improve if they try are those who take action to make it so.
So, remember: you feel sorrow right now. But oh, I wish you could fast forward 5 years from now. I wish you could gain that perspective.
I want you to look back at yourself 5 years ago. What obstacles did you face then that you’ve overcome now? What burdened you then that has long been alleviated? I wish you could know that future you looks back on you now in the same way.
You carry a lonely heart right now, yes. You do. But love is patient. Love, it is the most patient thing. There is no rushing love, there is no rushing Earth’s fruits. You want a lush garden, you must wait for the seedling to grow and reach skyward. You do not demand it sprout now and reach for the Sun, you do not yank it by the roots and demand it grow. Love: it is patient, it is patient. The best things in life are worth waiting for. You will hold the hand of your lover and look back and laugh at how worried you were. You will look back and know, it was all worth it.
You must have faith that this is so, you must. You must have faith, you must know that faith works wonders, because it is the wonder of faith that makes you work. Faith will be your fuel on this journey. You do not have faith and then sit; no, faith is that which carries one foot after the other, trusting that the road holds a destination. But he without faith sits and gives up.
You will hold faith, and you will continue, and you will look back and know: it was worth it.
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did we make love? I’m not sure. I don’t think we “made” anything. I think we already had plenty.
I think the lovemaking was metaphor, I think it was art. I think art is taking something ordinary and turning it into a symbol, the redemption of matter. To take what is mundane and make it sacred, some secret act of magic, some enchantment.
I don’t think we made love— we already had all the love in the world. I think we made art, though. I think we told each other of our love, a confession: our hearts already were one. Our bodies followed, told of that truth.
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i think i’m done pretending. i thought i’d make it— i haven’t. why fake it?
this “confidence” is a shell. i’ve known love that’s pierced its veil.
what if i could let myself be loved as a human? what then? what if i could be a flawed human and bare it all: honest. myself.
what if i surrendered not just all that i am, but all that im not?
what then? what if i surrendered all i wished i was?
what might that be like? do i know how to love myself in that way, to love another in that way?
i think i’m done pretending. with that mask, you try to attract another. little did you know: you repelled what was honest.
no, opposites do not attract. you will not attract something true with pretty little lies. peel off that mask: your true face. there is a beholder who will see beauty.