I’ve been told to cherish my solitude, but I can’t do it. This isn’t solitude… This is rock-bottom loneliness. Emotional and physical loneliness. Solitude is a choice, and I don’t remember making that choice.
The solitude of your soul is messy. You’re disconnected from the universe, the stars, the planets, the energy, and every soul out there. Imagine this kind of loneliness.
Imagine being deprived of the universal energy and not have it flowing through you. I’m in solitude because I chose to follow a certain path that I believed to be right… because I was told it was best for me.
Why did I believe that?
I deprived myself of so much magnificence by being led along the “right” path. But that ends now. I choose not to believe in anything but love. I found love inside the deepest cavities of my soul, smothered by the solitude it’s been locked in. I found love, and I chose to release it.
You know the light at the end of the tunnel… you know that shit everyone keeps promising? No, I won’t promise you that. I can hold your hand, that’s easy. I can wrap myself around you as we twirl into a never-ending black hole… I’m willing to do that. I can’t promise you happiness unless I’m the happiness you need.
If you find yourself skinned to the bone, scraping your knees against the floor, I’ll take my flesh off and wrap it around you…
We might never get out of this tunnel, or we might stumble onto a dead-end. But in those dark corners, I’ll build us a room big enough to fit our intertwined bodies.
I’ll drain myself to the core and free my soul. I will break every essence of its existence and transform it into stardust. I’ll find a way to form a star out of my dust and light up your world.
I can’t promise you happiness… but I can break in order to become your light.
I can’t describe the joy I feel when you’re this close. When we’re breathing the same air. When you talk to me, when I hear your voice… and my name on your lips. It’s beautiful. I feel beautiful when you look at me. When your eyes decide to carve a memory of me…
That day, when you asked what my name was, I couldn’t stop smiling. I swear I couldn’t.
I keep envisioning those eyes of yours… I try to let their warmth seep from my memory into my body, into my veins… until it’s embracing my heart.
I keep retracing lips that were never kissed, wondering how yours would feel against mine.
I keep running my hands across my arms, wondering how firm your grip is, wondering how easily you can lift me… wondering how safe I would feel….
This isn’t about a heart skipping a couple of beats, nor it is about the flutters I always get when I think about you…
More than the typical romance novel shit…
This isn’t a typical attraction.
I’m afraid this might be an addiction.
Addiction to your warmth, your strength, your lovely scent, and your sweet voice.
You make me beautiful.
Your proximity, my addiction, makes me beautiful.
As human beings, we enjoy the near-death experiences. We enjoy staring death in the eye. It gives us a rush, a high, a feeling of invincibility.
We enjoy jumping from a plane. We enjoy the air slamming in our face, but we have a parachute. We can stop death. We can enjoy the feeling of free falling and letting go, but, right before our feet touch the earth, we slow down. We stop and float down gently. We don’t want to die. We just want to experience those moments before death occurs. We want to experience the adrenaline in our veins taking over our entire being. For once in our lives, we want to feel invincible because, really, we enjoy being vulnerable sometimes. We fall in love and expose ourselves. We either survive it or find ourselves on the path of self-destruction.
Like I said, we enjoy the moments before death. Yes, we enjoy love.
But, the aftermath… Well, we never consider it, and we don’t even have a parachute to stop it…