I meant to tell you all, that love sinks into you, much like it does to a landscape. You may understand that it’s invasive. That it changes the evolution of of the anatomy. But, it will forever exist in that space. For me, that space happens to be my heart.
I don’t want to love like I do. It’s instinct at this point. Give, Katharine. Give. Until one day you wake up and you realize that giving doesn’t ever fill.
It doesn’t break even, it sinks you into debt, then you have to go on explaining why your heart may go bankrupt at any moment. Until, finally, people seem to understand, when you lay it all out. You fight, pull tight on the drawstrings. You don’t give anything. Then suddenly you’re mean, because your love knows nothing mediocre.
So, I still love, but I stand. I pull my shoulders back, and with each inhale I stand straighter. I give things a chance. Or at least enough. God damn it, when has enough ever been good enough. I wish I were 20 again, not looking but happy. I wish I were 16 again, un-kissed and hopeful. I wish it were tomorrow, so I could show myself, like I do everyday that my love only need to include myself.
I meant to tell you all, that love is, for some, an easy thing. I meant to tell you that love, for others, is a wicked bitch.
i meant to tell you all, that I’m fine. That I’m not waiting, nor hopeful, that I’m not looking, nor happy. I’m living each moment, and I ask nothing more.