You are a biologic carcinogen.
You left splinters under my skin. They don’t hurt most of the time, but when I run my fingers over their grooves they still send electric shocks through my ribcage.
You buried roots in my coronary vessels. I get angina at the thought of you and it drops a weight on my chest and it feels like I can’t breathe.
You spread hematogenously. I can feel your metastases weighing down my bones and crowding out the marrow cavities. They ache a lot at night.
You left a scar. It’s small, barely noticeable by anyone. Like a plump nodule hiding behind a clavicle, quietly heralding systemic disease.
Love stops you and makes you take a long, hard look at yourself.
Love is kind and patient with you while you try to figure out your flaws and your weaknesses. They sit back with calm and encouraging words, while you fumble through the knots of your past and try to smoothen out the grooves of old habits. Love doesn’t accuse and ridicule your faults. Love simply unveils them and smiles, like a secret shared between two close friends, wanting to explore further.
Love fans your flame.
Love doesn’t shy away from your terrifyingly enormous goals – they jump on the train with you. Love sees your passion and isn’t afraid to ignite it, because love has it’s own passion as well. They see the obstacles that chasing your dreams will entail, and they grab tighter and run with you towards it. Love stares in the face of your biggest challenge, looks at you and says, “Let’s make it your biggest strength.”.
Love sees you.
Love listens to you. Not the kind of listening where the sound pours in one ear and out the other. Love closes the other eardrum, letting your words seep in and wanting to know more. Love sees your weirdness and intensifies it. They speak your secret language, smile while you collect traveling marbles from the mountain, and listen as you belt out your favorite song.
Love is better than you imagined.
If you find yourself thinking, “Is this love?”. Let me assure you, it’s not. When you meet Love, you know it without a shadow of a doubt. Love keeps you up laughing into the early hours of the morning. Love notices the effort you make and makes that effort in return, by surprising you with dinner or showing up when you need them. Being with Love is like waking up on Christmas morning every day of the week. Love infuses you like a balloon – making you feel light, like you’re going to burst with happiness. Love turns you into someone you don’t even recognize – someone who is more kind, more trusting, more confident, more caring than you ever thought you could be. Before Love, relationships made you question yourself. But being with Love makes you realize that you are actually very good at the things you questioned in yourself before – like communicating and being able to make Love happy.
Love changes you into someone you always wanted to be.
“Does it feel heavy or light?”
Life is nothing but a chain of decisions, both conscious and unconscious choices, leading you through a tangle of events. These subtle decisions carry you on until you find yourself startled by your surroundings, wondering how you could have possibly arrived in such discord in the first place.
At every fork in this knotted path, there is an instantaneous moment of verdict. We are blessed with an inner compass, guiding us through these unfamiliar, bewildering surroundings: our intuition. Our twisting intestines tell us which path will lead us into darker troubles, and which path will lead to growth and fulfillment.
One explicit decision influences every future opportunity on your path.
Is your decision closing doors ahead of you, or opening them? Are you spending your life loving the wrong person? Are you choosing happiness? For every decision you encounter throughout your life, answer it based off the question:
“Does it feel heavy or light?”
Every syllable stems from a seed.
Every word that emerges from your mouth can be linked to some convoluted fissure in your brain, whether you realize it or not. Actions, memories, lessons, realizations – they are all tossed into these troughs to bury their roots and begin sprouting. Sometimes you can mask this hidden garden during conversation, but eventually, if someone listens long enough they will begin to see short, fleeting glances into the origin of your words.
It is impossible to misspeak, when you really think about it. Those words simply poured out of your mouth, directly from the seeds they were born from, and you did not react quickly enough to brush them away.
Last night I saw a blazing stallion
Running through the fields of Babylon
His dark mane on fire
Singing of a spiritual empire
I have learned not to settle. I have learned to cut things immediately when needed, instead of my former habit of dragging it out, thinking it might go somewhere. Now, when I see red flags, I take action. I know what I want.