Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Defining Love

[Originally written 11-04-2013]

What the fuck?

What is love then? Is it a child grabbing your hand to be near you? Is it a child hugging you because it’s scared?

How the fuck are we meant to love one another and each other if we can’t find it? Why is it that LOVE is such a serious and big thing? Surely love should be the most common thing to have for another person. Surely that’s why we invented words like in love and infatuation, so that LOVE itself could be free to use as we please with whomever we love. Actual love is not the act of having stars in our eyes or blushing when we say someone’s name. NO. Love is a warm feeling you have from knowing someone, it’s a smile brought on by the fact that you appreciate any other person for being alive and being who they are. It means someone besides yourself means something to your existence.

At this very moment I want love.; Pure appreciation and admiration and maybe even more. That’s the problem I guess, when defining love, we often attached things we associate with the feeling of love, clouding the true feeling of love.

I want that baby now. I want that man now. I want that fucking hug that I long so badly for. I want these tears to be worth it and I want them to mean something to someone. I want someone to be as bewildered by me as I am by them. Just for once I want someone to be highly interested in me and me in them. I want to be able to say I love you without being scared its “too soon” or that I have to defend myself according to the sex I’m talking to. I have friends, whom I love dearly, and I have men that I regard highly. I even have girls that I am so incredibly happy to have found. No I’m not gay, I’m not a slut, and I’m not over-emotional. I am a very emotive (there’s a difference) person with a huge heart and a great capacity to love.

 

I hate you so so incredibly much. Really, I can’t explain the pain I feel when I think of you. It’s not about being fair or jealous or in love or hurt or lust or even just loneliness. It’s about the fact that we had the chance of a lifetime to make something wonderful and we broke it. Maybe it’s failure that’s making me angry, or maybe it’s my injured pride that I broke something that used to be so special. Point is it’s not there anymore. All the things that went wrong, and those that went right should have been frozen and left in time, but instead we defrosted it and brought it back to life against its will, in turn making it break in ways it should never have had to endure anyways.
 
[Originally written 11-04-2013]

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