don’t hold back all your love for someday.

I can’t begin to tell you the things that are on my heart. But I suppose that’s why they let me write more than one post. And I will. I swear I’ll get these things out if it kills me. Because I’ve determined that living with things on your heart and in your head is not really living at all.

At what point do the things inside of me become me? Who is to say why I have these convictions and feelings, and who is to say what I should do with them? It’s all so confusing, but I think somehow writing them out will provide clarity. Or at least something that resembles clarity. Who knows. Maybe this will be the preface to some obscure book that only edgy people will read because they are the only ones brave enough to face what each of us have in our heart.

Love.

Love.

It’s a simple word.

Oh, what on earth am I getting at? It’s an atrocious word. Horrendous. Vividly fantastic in all it’s infinte greatness. Love.

Has there ever been a word so tremendously frightening in all time? Yet, we are told that it has always existed. I can’t even start on the whole quantum physics/ time space continuum thing. That part of life has always intimidated me, mainly because there are actual people out there claiming to understand it. (I personally think they’re full of it, just like someone pretending to like a particular band just to look like they know things.) But I digress.

There is a lot of love in my heart and in my head. Yes, most of the time it is directed at specific people, or, um, persons. But that’s not the point. The point is that I can’t get away from it. (I don’t want to, either.) What do I do with this “love” that happens to be imprinted on my DNA, written in my fingerprints, dyed into my hair, flecked into my eyes?

It is a part of me just like all the rest. And I have a problem. I want to use it correctly, and for the right reasons, but other people don’t seem to want to follow that path. Their love is conditional, finite, and usually for their own benefit. It just seems so meaningless to me.

Give my love away to people who will abuse it and then ask for more? Crazy.

I guess I’m insane.

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