First Draft
I've had this scurrying around in my head for some time, but I don't think I've actually succeeded getting all of it out yet. Maybe some of you will clarify that for me. Enjoy.
Possibilities: In Love with Circumstance
Have you ever fallen in love with an idea; With the prospect and thought of the hope, that something may indeed come of what you are experiencing. With the idea and wish and yearn for something that could prove amazing. Being disallowed, or denied the possibility of loving a person freely and expressively, results in such a thing. Falling in love with the circumstance leaves a vast gap where you place your fears, doubts and questions about everything you ever believed in. Not ever given the opportunity to craft a relationship for which the blatant blueprints exist.
Care, respect, mutual understanding; or so one would like to believe, and the strongest of friendships that you could have ever imagined possible; All those at your fingertips, yet the relationship is still painfully out of reach. This tears a hole in your being. A gap that a person like myself, never thought possible. Having my share of heart break, I painted myself at the ready for the next. I was already broken. I could not possibly break further. That I had every angle covered. You may laugh now, because if I had every possible outcome figured, I would have not fallen in love to begin with. Heart ache hurts, and I, like many of you; happen to be allergic to pain.
The pain resulting from the inability to express your true feelings in turn causes the body and soul to undergo a severe allergic reaction. It’s not a pretty thing. You break out in hives of doubt, you sweat questions within questions. Your body can’t breathe because of the intense reaction your soul is having while wondering why this hurts so damn much. Your heart speeds up with nowhere to go, and your body turns so cold that you think you are numb to everything, when in fact, you feel nothing but the constant pain of insecurity. Your tongue doesn’t swell in this case, but your heart. It is heavy, and the chasm within it where you place all your questions and doubts makes it understandably so. In a desperate attempt to recover, you soon you begin to try your hand in answering some of these quandaries yourself. Obviously, the conclusions you come to with only your heart and experience as a reference, are not exactly in the best presentable and finite conditions that most conclusions make a habit of being. This starts to change your outlook on experiencing love you once thought pleasant. Lo and behold; The naive part of you begins to die.
You do die, a part of you dies, and this is normal; Normal because you never think the same way again, ever. Ever more, wishing you still felt and thought how you used to think. But that has changed, and you mourn this about yourself. Because that purity or innocence of how you perceived love and relationships is gone permanently; altered to never be the same again. You even start to question whether you were in love at all. Seeing as you’ve wanted for so long that the thing you find solace in thinking about is the concept of being given the opportunity to form that bond with that certain someone. You might have even questioned if you loved that person to begin with. In all honesty if you really loved them, you would never made it to that sordid conclusion, regardless of the heartache and emotional distress that they are directly or indirectly causing you. You still love them. This comes with being broken, but I’m getting ahead of myself. No, I don’t rightly think I am. Let’s move on. After all, it only makes sense now that I’ve gone and spoiled the surprise.
Being broken, as some, including myself like to say; comes with the territory of loving. Your thoughts, now, are fragmented rationalizations, pieced assertations, and remnants of naive dreams and ideals that our current ’cold reality’ has rendered so; declaring said scraps of rationalizations, assertations and dreams, belong only in the latter half of the 18th century. This is the time period where Romanticism began to sweep across the land. This land anyway. I’m not really sure. Maybe you should ask Coleridge and Wordsworth. Like the composition of this semi-last assertion, Broken is what your heart has been and what your pattern of thought will always be on this subject for the rest of your life. But that was never my point was it? Yeah, I think I’ve made my dramatic point with the aesthetics of this particular piece. Time to piece this emotional wreck back together.
You fell in love, and now hurt for one reason or another. You fell in love with the notion of being in love and now you have confusion and doubt and questions; that if you ever are lucky enough to get an answer to; only leave you with even more questions to ask. That is how you learn, and that is how you grow, by asking more questions. Learn what feeling is like, and get hurt in the process, because only the really unlucky few never know heartache. I hope that I have clarified very little about being in love, hope that I succeeded in wasting your time and maybe, just maybe, left you wondering why I wrote this at all.
~Its only me in love with the circumstances
But
They all Circumvent
You.~
