At any given time is there something you can identify that is somewhere between love and murder? Notice I did not say between love and hate.
I was at the local library this weekend and after paying my fines for not returning my toddlers books on time I decided to wander over and pick out a couple of books for myself. I ended up with a book on mythology, an inspirational book and a love story of sorts. What I took notice of was that just opposite the sordid love stories were the gruesome murder mysteries.
I think there is a fine line between crazed obsession and love, in fact I am sure of it. I have experienced sweetness at the hand of another, on the opposite I have experienced bitter, piercing words that are left to sting like salt on an open wound.
Let me moon walk...backwards....star like. There is no other way, when life throws you dung, you make a garden with it. Preferably a rambling victorian garden that appears unkept but holds great beauty and places to hide away.
Nearly or about two years ago, I did what I thought was fall in love. Mutually in love. Only to have every particle of my being blown into the atmosphere at a very high rate of speed. I questioned my very existence, my place in this world, my worth and it took every ounce of my being to make it back alive.
Back to me.
About half a year later, a long time friend kissed me while sitting at a picnic table after eating a cheeseburger. Wow...hit me in the head. I can not even begin to explain this chapter in my life. Friend, occasional dance partner, holder of random bits of useful trivia and challenger in conversation without being confrontational. He helped me get back to being me. I have told him he will always be loved and this is true.
Roughly a year after that, I did it again. Smack down, blubbering, stars in my eyes...fell in love. The first time I stood near him I swear the world stopped. Kidding. Kinda. Every step I took, every breath that escaped...I was going to say was all for him. But here I was in love but not crazed. Not yet, anyway.
I don't know if I would still be holding his hand if it weren't for just a couple of things. I did say to a woman that I would go to the ground for him.....that's another story for another time. I am not confrontational but I don't share nicely and I ummm..let's talk about that some other time.
Love may not find me again. It may never be the mutual swirl that you feel when the other one smiles and lights up your life. I am not scared to be alone. I am scared that I missed my chance. I think back on my life and wonder was there ever anyone who really loved me with a passion so undeniable that they couldn't contain it? Was it so strong that I could feel its presence before me?
Claiming to love someone while putting them thru hell that makes them think of murder...nah. I don't have enough hate in my heart for anyone to think of that. But throw a ring back, block a number, block emails, I can do that. Love is not compiled of texting xoxoxoxo's, love is respect, honesty, friendship, chemistry, communication and not just emails that can be carefully thought out but real communication.
Love's most important detail~love yourself first and foremost without reservation or worry about what or who ... listen to your heart and follow thru with its direction. If this means being alone until the tides have stopped, then so be it.
So, I sit here and cry tears that don't quite fall to my cheeks. I cry sometimes when I write not because I am sad really but because inbetween all of my paraphrasing, extra dot...dot...dots... are untold stories that I may never share. I search for the one who searches for me but not today. Not yesterday and not tomorrow. For now, I write and create and work because anything else has proven too exhausting.
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