The Art of Love

Love is an indefinite art. There is always room for improvement and it will always remain perfectly imperfect.

However, there is a misconception that love can be given or received in one way. That somewhere in the cosmic meaning of the universe, there is a definition to the noun of love written amongst the stars.

But love, love is an art. Every artist creates their own masterpiece with their own definitions, understandings, and implementations. Don’t get me wrong, there are still things that should never be done in the name of love: Abuse, pain, hurt, and the list goes on. But love is beautiful enough to encompass all the ways that it can be given.

A love can be passionate with strength and fire, a tough warrior facing the world’s ugliness and turning it into armor. A love can be kind and sweet, warm molases that feeds the soul. A love can be soft and shy, the whisper of a kiss in the depths of the dark. A love can be hard and present, a supporting rock amid floating oceans. A love can be relentless and tireless, crashing waves that hug the shore infinitely.

So many endless combinations of how love can be delivered. But nevertheless, love is constant, pure, and forgiving. Love can grow and mature, strengthen and support.

You might discover one day that your soul can love differently than another, and that’s okay. Because if your love is kind and forgiving, my love is strong and loyal. Never doubt my soul’s love for you; because if you are sweet as honey, cherish me when I need it the most. And if I am your heart’s warrior then trust that I will support and love you, with every sliver of my soul, till the last breath I exhale.

So don’t fret, my dear, for our love together can beat a thousand thunders and storming hurricanes, and forever remain unbroken.

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Death

Sometimes I fantasize about the idea of death. There is a certain kind of peacefulness in simply not existing. An endless silence. No pain, no hurt, no agony. The promise of nothingness lures my mind.

It’s a dark fantasy, one that I often like to keep a secret. I understand the people that choose to end their suffering. I know that it takes a certain kind of despair to hit rock-bottom.

But I continue to choose life even when sometimes I don’t want to. Because I won’t give up.

Love Effect

Love is beautiful. It has the power to turn the most tortured soul into a delicate flower. Being safe is a feeling. A feeling of content, warmth, and peace. Safety is a state of mind that only settles in when the soul is calm.

I am safe.

I am safe when I am in his arms, protected from the world’s turmoils. I am safe when he is around me, embracing me with his heart and all I can comprehend is him. I am safe when his body is surrounding mine, creating a safe space, a space my soul can be free in. I am safe when his mind inspires my own, and I become stronger, a warrior, ready to defend myself against the wicked.

And when I am safe, I heal.

My heart heals itself from people’s poisons. My mind settles, and the worries float away. When I am with him, I become clean, the hurt washing away as the rain washes away the world. And when he is with me, the ocean inside me calms, the crashing waves become mere ripples on soft sand.

It is beautiful how love can make you pure, for he is my savior and I am forever bound to him.

Darkness

It’s beautiful in a tortured and miserable way how the mind has the power to create or destroy a person’s life. My mind is destroying me. And I am afraid. Afraid to understand the reasons why. But if I do not let it out, it will consume me.

I am sad. Sadness is an ugly thing. It can swallow you down in a heartbeat. It makes you feel broken, and to the people who are not sad, they don’t understand. They don’t understand that there is no reason for the sadness. It’s just there, inside of you, threatening to consume you if you let it. And they try to make you happy, cheer you up, but it’s only enough for so long before it crawls back and settles in your heart. And then you feel guilty, guilty for bringing down the people around you.

I feel guilty. Because you love those people; they try to help you even though they don’t understand what is that’s wrong. But they try, and they fail. And in the process, they make you feel as if it’s your fault. Your fault for feeling sad and upset and depressed. But it’s not your fault. And I know it wasn’t your choice. Some people are just sad. Nevertheless, they try to help you. But it only succeeds to turn your guilt into anger.

I am angry. Angry at the world for not understanding that sometimes, you need to drown in self-pity and self-hatred to feel the pain. The pain of hurting those around you, the pain of being a burden on those who love you. It’s too much to handle on your own, the ocean of emotions that won’t let you breathe, so you lash out, and you burn everything that dares come close. You burn them until they’re all gone and there’s nothing left to burn except your own soul. And then the emptiness comes.

My soul is empty. It’s when you feel nothing at all. And that’s the worst of all. It’s when you want to cry, because sadness is much better than this, this emptiness that will destroy you, but the tears won’t come. Because your heart is now tired. Tired of fighting itself, tired of feeling so heavy.

It is not always apparent and clear, this sadness. Sometimes it is hidden inside until the night settles and the loneliness creeps in. And some days, I find myself truly happy, even if it is for a short while. Maybe I am selfish, for wanting the happiness that I get from the person I love to always be enough. But it is not fair to make someone else responsible for your happiness. So I pray that I find the strength to be happy, on my own. To forgive myself for having an agonized soul. And to stop burning the hearts of those who try to help me.

Sanity

Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane. Insane.

I am sane.

To My Darling

Oh, but I love him, my darlings.

His love is like a breath of warm in the cold and crisp midnight air.

His love tastes like wild honey bought from the petals straight to the mouth.

He loves me just as much as the moon loves the sun. And my heart beats like a thousand thundering horses when I see him, just as the first time.

His laugh is contagious, he makes the world laugh along to his wonder and beauty.

Oh, and my darlings, his love is wild. Wild as the ocean and its churning waves. Wild as the hurricanes we outlast.

And oh, his soul…I am in love with his soul. For his fire burns me deep within, and I shiver every time I imagine the touch of his being against mine.

We are a kaleidoscope of burning colors, waiting to merge together to create a cosmic wonder. Together, we are wild and beautiful. And oh, my darlings, I am forever grateful that he is mine. I cherish him with all of my heart, mind, and soul.

I have loved you since twenty-six, fifteen and I will love you until the stars fade out from the night sky.

I promise.

Social Anxiety

What is social anxiety?

Some people think that having social anxiety makes you a weird or creepy person. Others think social anxiety is a contagious disease that should only be ridiculed and laughed at.

But let me tell you, that social anxiety is not a fear of people or conversations or friendships or relationships as many people think. Social anxiety is the fear of speaking out and being made fun of, or judged, or embarrassed, at least for me it is.

See, it’s not a matter of being afraid to speak publicly, in fact, I love to speak to people, talk about the thoughts in my head, what I think and what I feel, my opinions, my passions, my ideals. But what I do not love is the monstrosity that sometimes comes out of people around us.

Having social anxiety stops me from talking out loud. It tells me to not take too much space with my body, so people do not notice me. It tells me to walk with my head down, because everyone looks at the heads held high. It tells me to keep my thoughts to myself, because I am protected if no one hears me. Social anxiety has made me who I am today, a person that doesn’t talk out loud because she’s too scared of what people can do to her if she does.

People don’t understand that this isn’t by choice, that I am the way I am out of self-preservation, basic human survival, the pain of embarrassment is not an easy pain to survive, forget and move on. Each slash is felt deeply, leaving a mark of self-hatred in its wake. So I have learned to not talk too much, because no one will want to talk to a quiet girl sitting in the back. And it has worked for me, I am content with the way I am.

There is no cure for social anxiety, it is what it is. Because even if the turtle comes out of its shell, it can always retreat back if it feels threatened at any moment.

However, sometimes I am at odds with myself. By nature, I am a very social person, but what life has made me endure has created a shell, protection against the mean things people can do. And so there is a constant war inside of me, the person that wants to come out, show the world who she really is, and the little girl waiting to go back home to the safety of her room and comforting surroundings where she is protected from the outside world.

So every time I hide behind my wall, just be patient, because you should never abuse the tortured.