|
|
|
“It’s explosive… Like dynamite… It makes me cry sometimes. But I laugh while doing so. I don’t know how to explain myself with this. I wish I could show you, or even tell you, what this feels like. You say you feel the same towards me, but I’m positive it’s different. No love is ever the same. I want you to know exactly how I feel. Not just a fragment of it. If I could, I’d let you see my dreams. Float around in them. Watch and hear what I think. I’d let you see how I act during the day. But these things are not possible… I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse to be distant in this way. It’s something that we won’t ever… know about each other. We understand. Our feelings are mutual. But we don’t actually know how the other feels. My frustration sometimes takes hold of me and shakes me around. It starts threatening me. Like huge black fists just grabbing me by the shoulders and telling me to let you know. I scream at it that I can’t and I really want to. It just gets angrier. It lives inside me. It dwells in my gut. I hear it growl. It wants to take over. I fight it, I really, really do. But it comes out anyway. I don’t know how this could be love. Do you know the definition of love? No? Well here it is. Love: A very strong affection. An intense feeling of affection and compassion. No. This is not love. If it is, there is no warning in the definition of how it really feels. There’s no warning of what it can do to a person. I’ve gotten on my hands and knees and begged. I do not beg. When I’m joking, of course, who doesn’t? But I find my way around situations. I earn my forgiveness back; I don’t go so low as to beg for it back. But I did. Once. And only to you. You can make me do absolutely anything you want me to do, and I will do as I am told without question. I follow you like my fat dog follows food. If you know me, I am never like that. Ask my mother. She’ll tell you that I always argue. Or better yet, my father. I’m constantly battling with him. I say the exact opposite of what he wants me to say, simply because it will satisfy him. Someone can name one other person I don’t argue with, and I will give them everything I have. (Well almost anything. I can’t give them one thing, but the rest can be theirs.) You got me to do it. I begged. I hurt you, and I’d made a mistake, the biggest one I’ve made so far in my life, and I wanted back what I threw away. It’s kind of like when you throw away your favorite childhood toy, but after a week or two, you realize you shouldn’t have, but by then it’s already at the dump. I’ve given you everything. My soul, you can even have my body. I’m more than willing. I’m eager. If it weren’t for our desire to wait, I would have.
“But I’ve strayed off subject. There should be a warning label for “love.” ‘Caution: Explosive, Flammable, Very fragile if not handled properly!’ But there isn’t. I have a very close friend who is in pain because love at the moment, and he is actually the one who inspired me to write this. (I don’t yet know how, but he has.) It has side effects. Huge ones. I thought I’d loved before. But it was nothing like this. It’s been over a year since this started, and I swear with no exaggeration, it gets better by the millisecond. Right now those big black fists are grabbing at me, pushing me to write down what I feel. But I can’t, damn it. The feeling is too big. It overpowers me. I’m at its mercy. I’ve screamed so many times because I can’t get it out to you. I don’t know what else to say. I’m at defeat with the fists. They are asking something from me that I can’t give. And if I can, I definitely don’t know how. You might never know how I honestly feel. Sure, you know the nut shelled version of it, but not what I want you to know. I want you to know what this is, what I’m feeling, how I interpret it. I want you to understand so fully that you’ll feel a twin feeling as I explain it. I don’t even know if you’re going to ever read this, but I’m going to make sure others do. I want to know if I’m alone or not. I want to know if anyone else feels like this. I feel bad for them, if they do, but I would like to not be alone in this. I’ve put this part at the end of my what-ever-you-want-to-call-it to see how many people actually felt like reading this the entire way. I understand if you didn’t want to, it’s rather long, but I wanted to explain the feeling of not being able to explain a feeling as thoroughly as possible. Message me or comment on it, what ever you wish to let me know you’ve read this."
By the way, I “love” you, Adrian.
 Piranha Biter · Tue Mar 20, 2007 @ 07:59am · 2 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
