disgustingly, appallingly, horridly in love.

Slowly I've begun to remember who I am. Rediscovering a heart I had set aside as unappreciated. The world around me seems to change shape and the colors all become vivid, begging to be noticed. I can breathe without the weight of wondering why I take each breath. The tendency to lose myself into another person no longer seems to be a possibility. As it turns out, the right person by your side will hold you up and encourage your true self to shine. My life should be complicated and frightening right now, but most of the time it is not. I feel at peace for the first time possibly ever. I wake up excited and filled with an eager joy to live my life. Each and every breath has become the gift I've been told i should treat it as. Life has a purpose, a meaning, a plan I can't explain but am now so very aware of. My mind fills with concepts that are deemed silly and childish, yet I refuse to censor myself. My soul has found solace and over-analyzing that into a logic that pleases the skeptically concerned onlookers does not serve me. Love is not meant to be contained in a definition or time frame. Love is not a concept to be explained in words. It is clearly a feeling and it overcomes me right now. It flows through me in a way I had assumed was only possible in fantasy. It transcends the rules and helps me to see a whole new path in front of me. I want to go forward knowing who I am and discovering what else I will become. I want to do those things with your hand in mine, with my trust in you. Knowing that who I am is enough, is accepted, is celebrated. I dreamt of you, I begged for you, I knew exactly what I wanted and needed without any idea what body to find that soul in. You knew. You found me in a moment I had given up hope and restored it. You could see through my pain and into the person that used to live there. If it ended tomorrow I wouldn't regret a second, but I could stay in this place forever.

Falling Apart

The image of a person dropping to the ground in defeat, screaming to their god, and ripping at their hair in rage embodies the words "falling apart". Creating the idea that one falls apart in a single moment. I suppose some of us do, but more often it's piece by piece. Moment by moment. The difference between a building exploding and burning to nothing in a night versus leaking pipes, rotting wood, a cracked foundation. That building can be standing and housing an entire family while nobody even knows it's struggling not to collapse. 

    With that visual in mind and the possible methods of prevention of the destruction of that....building...one might ask, why would you let it fall apart? Surely in the case of sudden explosion we can't do much. Watch it burn and accept we must rebuild from nothing. But the decay, the slow descent into being condemned, we could prevent that, right? We could call the plumber, the exterminator, fix the broken pieces and salvage the building. Yet so many of us don't bother, overwhelmed by how much work it would be we let it cave in and take us with it. At least I do, in my emotional house.

    For a while I tried to fix the broken bits. Lose the weight and dress the part. Try new things, make better choices. I would smile when I didn't want to until it feels like that smile made sense. Things were afloat and I was maintaining my own structural integrity. Then one day my world caught on fire, I tried to put it out and it just kept burning. The cancer, the pain, the surgeries and the consequential emotional abandonment from my husband engulfed my whole being. I couldn't get control of the fire and the whole thing burnt down. There I was, sitting in a pile of the ashes of my life wondering how I got there. What of karma and its supposed importance to how we treat others and what we will receive in return. How was I here.

    So it's gone and we rebuild, or so I said. Perhaps a stronger person would have. Perhaps it's not too late, but I struggle to see how I will stand from this wreckage and create something new. Instead I sit in the ash, grasping at burnt bits of my life wishing there were a way to fix it all. So many times I have looked outside myself for help, for validation, for purpose. I beg the people I value the most to see me as I see them. Yet all they see is a singed heap of desperation begging for something they cannot give.