I wonder what came over me for me to fly six hours to another country in a heartbeat. Now in my way back I simply cannot put it together.
There’s a fine line between hope and expectations, like the line between excitement and nervousness, sometimes our minds fail to grasp which is which.
My mind, for example cannot tell the difference, I would feel nauseous either way; whether it’s the excitement before a date or the nervousness before an exam.
I believe I fall in love easily, no, I fall in love with the idea of love easily.
I fell in love with man who spends most of his time hidden yet helping the world to be a bit better, I would describe him as all the good in the world (no, he’s far from perfect, for one thing he’s always late) his soul and his very being seems to be full of light.
He is a true gentleman in terms of mannerisms, classy yet simple. We are similar and different at the same time
We both were never anyone’s first choice and people fall for us just by seeing the surface but none can accept what lies in the depths.
I wonder what it would feel like to have his lips against my forehead. Would he ease this restless soul of mine?
I was drawn to his light like a moth, I guess we know what becomes of the moth? He is a light I cannot attain no matter how much i chase it, he is very much like the sun.
The other man I’ve come to love is someone who’s life is constantly under watchful eyes but making an impact in this world.
The darkest corners of his mind fascinates me, his perceived demons seems to compliment mine perfectly, his words resonates within my flesh and bones. His thoughts and mine are the same side of the coin, how we perceive the world and it’s beauty and madness.
We are both constantly looking for something inexplicable while struggling with a haunting loneliness and emptiness. Sometimes I wonder if we held eachother close enough, we would be able to fill each others emptiness; two negatives becoming a positive.
He was like the moon, lighting up my world during the darkest hours. But would a wolf’s howls ever reach the moon?
While the other was a love of lightness of the mind and soul, perhaps like a weightlessness or floating, this love brings forth a hidden darkness. The temptation and the need to feel another’s weight against mine, pushing me down with a heaviness pinning me to the ground, a love of the mind and body.
For the first time (and probably the last) all three of us were close together for three days. However, I spoke to one love, without being able to see him. I saw the other love, without being able to speak to him.
Perhaps Milan Kundera was wrong but it is the lacking of lightness or heaviness that makes being unbearable.