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I’m no expert on love.
I can’t become a professor of love and give you
detailed power points on the definitive meanings.
I can’t give you the textbook answers and highlight
paragraphs that can make the immense feeling make sense.

I just know that it feels like the forgotten sun.
Like when the sun comes out and warms your bones,
a shield melting around your heart.
Like when you wake up in the morning with a smile instead
of lonely tears.
A giant breath of crisp air
Air that flows through your lungs cold
and comes out hot.
Air that is so light, you feel like you are flying.

Love comes when you stop searching for it.
When you stop looking in every treetop
and down every rabbit hole.
When you stop condemning the world for giving
you anything but perfection.
Love finds you when you’ve given up on its very being.
When you’ve reached your wit’s end.
When you’ve begun to believe you don’t even want its gift
anymore.

Love is also imperfectly beautiful. An anecdote for other people’s poisons. Like there’s someone with the right anecdote in their heart to stop the poison flowing through your veins. But that’s why some relationships don’t work. You both have to have the right anecdote for each other. Otherwise, one person continues to live their lives with poison filling their veins while the other is healing. One grows stronger as you grow weaker. I think that’s why some relationships can end up being so toxic. You don’t realize how weak you are getting because the other person is strongly attached to your heart. They keep you healthy enough where your blood will still be pumping, but your soul will start to die until it becomes no more. You don’t recognize how shaky your hands are getting or how fuzzy the world seems to slowly become. The world feels like it’s caving in, but their body is keeping it from collapsing.

But.

Finding someone that also fights your poison, is a gift. Someone that doesn’t just want to have your heart, but to hold it with such care and protection. Someone who treasures your mind, body, and soul in a way that isn’t degrading but uplifting. With every heartbeat, you both grow stronger together. You hold equal weight. You help the other walk when the world becomes too heavy. They help the crashing waves of anxiety calm in your mind.

I found my love.

I found her when I didn’t expect it. I found her when I STOPPED searching endlessly for someone. She found me when her heart was finally open. When she realized that she still had poison running through her. She become strong after someone made her weak. After someone took almost all of her anecdote, just to push themselves up to the next tier.

There was still some left for me. It’s now a never-ending flow of love and understanding.

Love is always beautiful. The word is often overused in today’s society that it has begun to lose the meaning. True love? Unadulterated and pure love? You don’t find it every day.

I am lucky to have someone that knows what love is.
I am lucky to be alive.
I am lucky to live every day with her.

I’m no expert on love, but if I had to write a book on it

your name would fill all the pages.

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The Hands Of Time

The hands of time. Think about how much influence they have on everyone’s life. You depend on the time to know when to go to work, say goodnight, eat dinner, etc.

One more tick, you might be late.
One less tick, one less moment of your life.

The more time that passes, the older you get. The closer you get to your goal. The closer you are to improve your life.
Everything in our lives is so intently focused on time.

I’m calling on everyone to let the strain of time slip. Open your fist just a little wider and let the grains of sand flow through your fingers.

Time is only there to structure our lives, not rule them.

What time is it? When do we have to be there? What is the normal time frame for this step? How much time is left? How much of our lives do we have left? What has time taken away from us?

Love is strong enough to overpower bullshit societal norms.

I never thought I would live past 20. Not because I have a disease that would eventually choke me off, but because I never thought I would allow myself to live.

Time allows us to look into the past, but also to dwell on it. You can be with someone for years and think to yourself, “This is it. This is best I’ll ever get.” And then you find someone else who makes the sun shine on a rainy day. Someone who makes you smile every time they say, “I love you.” Someone who sees you for who you are and doesn’t judge you for who you aren’t. Within those months, you can feel more love than you’ve ever known. You wake up next to the love of your life and there’s nothing else you need. You make coffee in the mornings. You spend every night in each other’s arms.

We almost died many times in our lives. We almost vanished, never to meet, never to experience this.

What if we would’ve known? What if we would’ve been able to see that our lives would meet here? If we only would’ve known that one day pain wouldn’t be all we knew. What if?

We made it up the steps in our lives and now we can finally let that painful breath of air out we didn’t know we were holding. We can finally learn something other than pain.

Trapped.

In a split second, I can get so trapped inside my own mind that I don’t remember what is going on around me.

There is this void I can’t hide from in my life now and it is starting to swallow me whole. This incredible sadness I can’t seem to shake. I feel like I am watching myself live my life, but not actually being there. It feels like this big surreal dream that I can’t wake up from. Everything is cloudy. I can’t see the sun, maybe it no longer exists.

I hate how often I flip flop around with my moods. I can be in a fine mood all morning and then just crash so incredibly hard. Sometimes I feel like I am trying to sprint across the railroad tracks after the arm comes down, just trying to beat the sadness from crashing into me. Splaying me open against the front of the train. So open. So vulnerable. On display. I’m just trying to make it past before my feet hit the ground. I feel dead. Somewhere I still have this beating heart, but I no longer feel it pumping my blood.

I had a good morning. A good and productive morning. Yet, here I am crying over something I don’t have control over. Something I want back. Someone I want back.

I harbor a lot of hate right now. This hatred heats my blood but doesn’t boil it. I think about this person I hate, this person who took my love from me, this person who somehow still gets her way after everything she did, this person that doesn’t even come close to deserving this. But every time I think about this person, my hatred slows to a simmer because my heart gets so overtaken with sadness for the person I miss the most. My smile has faded. My laugh is empty. My bones are hollow.

I don’t want to be alone tonight. I’m sick of going to bed alone. I’m sick of waking up in a sweat in the middle of the night from nightmares and turning over to see you not there. I’m sick of getting drunk to try to numb myself just enough to sleep again. I get high enough where I can’t feel my fingers. I let hunger overtake my body. I feel like I am slowly destroying myself without even trying to.

I get asked, “What’s wrong?” “Are you okay?” How do I answer these people? How do I say yes, with enough confidence they’ll believe me? How do I say no without saying why? I can’t explain why. Everyone already knows why. The answer is the same answer as last week. How do I answer them without sounding pathetic? That I am still hung on this situation. How do I?

I can’t answer them.

“I’m fine.”

What else is there to say? I could bleed my heart out to them. I could tell someone how I am feeling. I could tell the whole story about how I am not okay. How I’m sad and broken. That I am trying to find some way to shake it.

I’m trying.

Some people are just born sad.

I don’t want to go to bed alone.

I don’t want to be alone.

I have this terrible ache. “I watched you chose her, instead of me.” My eyes connect and look so longingly at you without trying. Like I am trying to pull you back from this decision. As if my eyes had enough power to grab your heart again. As if you can see how much I love you through them. They tell my whole story if you’re looking close enough. They’ve always been the worst at keeping a secret.

“I’m fine.”

For When We Find Each Other Again…

Disclaimer: Created my own post while using the idea of another source

Before we can both love each other again,

1. I want us to be friends again while also working towards there being an us. Which means I want to be able to comfortable with you. I want to be okay with being messy, irritating, embarrassing, cute, and petty while with you. I want to be okay with being the way I am and the only way to be okay is to know that you’re okay with me being things other than beautiful, graceful (like I ever am), and composed.

2. I want to be able to have long passionate conversations again with each other. Not just about existential things and politics, but also about how the ending in that book was just wrong or oh so right. And how kids are affected by media, how those seasonings work together in all the right ways. I want to have conversations where we may not always have the same views, but our fundamental values always fall in place.

3. I want to see how consistent your actions are with your words.  I want to love you for showing up on time and keeping your promises. I want to love you for how you treat me.

4. Most importantly, I want to take it slow. I want our story to work out in years, not months. I want to respect time and space this go around. This time, I know it will work.

5. I want to make sure I am not seeking love from you for the lack of love I have for myself. I want to make sure you aren’t a void I am filling in, you are not an alternative to the things I can’t give myself. I want to sure you aren’t doing the same.

6. I want to work out with my insecurities better WITH you this time. I don’t want to project them onto you, I don’t want to subject you to the doubts, suspicion, and anger I carry from other people in the past. I want the same from you.

7. Before we love each other again, I want to make a mattress with you. Of understanding, respect, and trust. So when we fall, it doesn’t hurt. So love doesn’t hurt this time around.

They say the standard time is 2 weeks to a month for a healthy break in a relationship. That isn’t that long.

I’ll smoke and self reflect.

We will be fine. Time to grow up.

No Blueprints

I built my empire with unsteady walls.
I didn’t know at the time,
I didn’t know they were so shaky
I built it too fast, too rash
No plan, just action
Then a storm came.

If I would’ve known how dangerous my hands were,
how they carry poison
How a touch from me vibrates in your bones
If I would’ve just known
Were they always this terrifying?
They get so shaky,
mimicking my unsteady mind
Fear propelling them to hold you even tighter
Like you could fly away if I tried to let go
The air around you was already so thin
The bag was already stuffed full over your eyes,
I was helping tie it shut when I thought I was undoing it.
And although, I didn’t cause the bag to fill up,
I was the reason it closed.

I didn’t realize that you needed to fly away.
How these hands were draining you
instead of loving you.
How these fingers blocked the sunlight
I know you want to see the sun again.
My happiness was blinding me.
My love was blinding you.

The cold from you started cutting into me,
so I clung even harder, trying to find warmth.
Digging my fingernails into your back.
I wanted to prove that I was good.
That I was worth it.

There shouldn’t have to be such a fight,
so I will let you go, but my feet are cemented.
I will let you fly, but I still will be your ground.
I still will be waiting for you.
For when you migrate back,
when the time is right,
you can land on my front door
I’ll unlock it for you.
I’ll let you back in.

We are rebuilding our empires.
Rewriting the blueprints.
One day, we will work together on the bridge
And we will be okay.
Feet standing on solid ground.
Swords at our sides.

There is something worth fighting for,
I’m just waiting for your army.