Tuesday, April 13, 2010

The third, unintentional, unknown to you. And perhaps she is the most precious of all. I asked if the first symbolized death, you laughed in my face and assured me it was not so, “Not this one my dear, not this one at all!” The second rose was a little closer to a lovers dozen. I smiled. You’d given me a symbol for each visit. I miss you already.

The third may be torn between loving and loathing without control, may wish an end instead of a start, and the past to present from time to time. And so much like a younger me, I know this animosity. I’m sorry. It gets better. Time heals… and so many other clichéd things to say run through my mind. But the truth is, I know nothing I could say will take away your pain. And I wouldn’t, not even if I could.

You’re so very strong. You’re so very true. You’re so very raw and so very much you. And there are lessons to be learned about unrequited love, and broken hearts with hands waiting to heal them in your shadows. There is so much more than your eyes let you see, and soon enough someone will see… in you, what he sees in me.

But the lesson I learned (many years beyond your age), was another cliché, that I had to love me. And to love yourself, you need time alone, no man, no lover, no tainted thoughts but your own. Learn about you and how you decide your own fate, learn about love and its vast estate - waiting for you to embrace it if only you knew how. There’s a difference between love and dependency, realizing this… is the major difference between you and me. And this pain you feel, is a tool you cannot yet see, in teaching you true independency.

I wish you true love, and faith and so very much more. But after so many lost years, it’s finally my turn, and I will let this love sore, if that’s how high I’m finally meant to be.

0 words of wisdom:


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No matter where I am, I'm lost and learning to like it. I'm a living contradiction, and the best lies I tell are the ones I tell myself.
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