I am in love. Maybe for the first time in my life.
It started a few months ago.
How did it feel? I felt my whole rib cage bursting open, and there it was, open wide, like the arms of a mother a child feels pulled to run into.
It felt wonderful. I never wanted it to end. It was dreamy. It was energizing. Then the object of my love did some things that bothered me. He spoke badly of others, sounded belligerent, and other ways of beings that were not easy to swallow.
I cried. I pained. I questioned the wisdom of opening myself up for hurt.
He was short with me, and then he was sweet. I went from heaven to hell, over and over and over.
Upon meeting personally, I added lust to my burning love. “Unrequited love” I whispered to myself.
Vulnerable… that is the state love has put me. A constant buzz in my head… the kind of buzz you hear under water: it is the sound of quiet.
I began to appreciate, savor, love, my open chest, my abundantly flowing affection.
Then it occurred to me that love could be demanding, selfish, but not MY love. That I can turn that demanding nature of love and demand towards me, of myself, to be the best, do the best, be the most I can be.
Allow myself to live in that permanent state of love, while diligently bettering myself. For who? For him? Maybe a little bit. But really, really, really, for me.
Thank you Love. I really appreciate the energy you have given me.
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