"Love no matter how many ways you make it. From shaved ice to melting cheese pots it assembles feelings of irrevocable and deep temptations and sensations. Flavors vary but they do it just right because it's the tongue that made a connection at first but when we eat it again the flavor is absorbed than the first. Like that love will consume you with insatiable and magical flavors." ~
A message that I wrote for a friend of mine the other night as I had a sudden romantic urge to share feelings about love even though I fail miserably to keep them with me for a while because I'm a complicated guy. I hesitate, mess up and doubt myself in a chaotic heat of things. Even though I do my best to make things right I slip up, I'm human. By nature, I don't look for the sympathy or the idea of forgiveness, in fact I deserve a slap in my face for every time I have screwed up. No this is no mockery or charades but I as the writer fall in the oceans not of despair but in chaos when it comes to love. The feelings of holding of someone every night before going to bed exists in a form of a body pillow or a stuffed animal or both is the closest, warmest feeling I have to love. Even more so, it's the two things that I recite monologues, short or long of how I love them, even though intended for the girlfriend it's those two that I practice. I don't know what to call love everyday because I fall in it almost everyday because of life but when it comes to the opposite sex therein lies a different emotion of it. Chaos. I am chaotically rushing it, even listening to bad things, and looking for a bad angle when there isn't one. Though chaos shouldn't be the winning factor of it, ideally and truthfully it's patience, prudence and perseverance that should win it. Patience because I took the time to learn them. Prudence because there is intimacy and there is awkwardness, I prefer intimacy inside more. Finally perseverance because no matter the seasons or reasons she and I stood together to make it through the end of the week and she is there to start it all over again.
True love vs feeling love are two different meanings as I was taught recently. True love begins when I see not the person but when it develops deeper and truer because they feel more different. They become more human than the human dream I had of them. Feeling love is the expression of what love brings in different chaotic mixes of heat which is what makes it difficult.
I blame myself for messing it up, doubting, and hesitating but with each heartbreak I learn. I flunk it so much that I am responsible. Love is the ultimate emotion of life, it can keep you up and crush you at the same time but I firmly believe in the former because deep down and surely when the time is there again to fall in love it's the other feelings that will keep me down but with love it's the one that keeps me in heaven of things. There is no race involved with love. Ultimately, I flunk at love as evidenced by my rashness when I mess with the feelings of the one I really love.
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