My sexuality is feeling boundless as well as my insecurity.
It is the way of the world those being tethered to one another. Keeping us all locked in a prison of irony and sanctity.
There are so many things I am aching for, from life, and I’m feeling trapped from them. Admittedly, by my own doing.
For the first time in so long I’m wanting to feel the freshness of a new relationship, the clarity of its walls being unknown. Keeping definitions to a minimum. I want and am excited to learn someone new.
I am curious and crazed. My book shelf as of late not helping (Fifty shades of Fucked Up).
Obviously I’ve caught some sort of romantic bug. Quote of the day. Songs trapped in my head. So glad that Pandora isn’t fueled on brain waves. What is it to feel romantic? What is it to have some sort of chocolatey gooeyness coursing through your veins?
It feels like a health condition.
Usually when thoughts like these pop in my head I create a Romantic Comedy Marathon on Netflix. Fuels my, already deep, addiction.
What I enjoy about feeling like a human sweetheart candy is the innocent and jovial factor. Currently I might have a bitter after taste but blood still courses hot through my heart. Every beat a yearn for what can’t be mistaken to be human nature. There will always be a gravitational pull towards those who surround us. Like the variables in an equation, we dance around symbols and signs. The dance continues on until we make our way to the logical conclusion.
We were born for it. Created for it. Fish do it, less complicated of course. Whether it be spawning or bonding that bring us together we find a match. Who knows about that “only one special someone” factor. Not sure if I believe that, not now. But what I do know is at the right moment there will be no doubt.
I’m literally gushing. I cannot believe I feel so red-cheeked and smitten with simple ideals.
“I hate the way you talk to me. And the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare I hate your big dumb combat boots. And the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick – it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh – even worse when you make me cry. I hate it that you’re not around. And the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you – not even close, not even a little bit, not any at all.” – Julia Styles (10 Things I hate about you)
I guess this quote means I’m feeling a little romantic, today. It must be the snow storm effect. Trapped. Hot Cocoa. Boots. Or maybe it’s just because I have listened to Michael Buble‘s rendition of Fever, about 20 times in the last 24 hours. Whatever it is, I like it. No downplay.
What do I miss about love? Love. Ha. Just reading it makes my heart sink 5 feet into the ground. I almost feel like I’m not quite sure what that is. I know what it’s not. I know I’ve become friends with aspects of it. Visited it. Pretended in it; like dress-up.
Because of new/old people in my life, revisiting, I’m seeing things I never would have noticed before. Things that I need in someone else and in myself. I can’t get by in life only having my work life. I can’t get by without writing or taking pictures or being excited about life and it’s possibilities. Previous to my Divorce I was on a one way, no rest-stops, no exits. Just careening towards the inevitable.
What do I miss about love? Romance. The innocence of it all. That at the base of every moment there is only one thing, love. That sickly, can’t shake it, death-bed please be by my side at my worst, love. Currently I don’t want those things. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to be naked. But I miss it. More than mourning the loss of my best friend, I’m mourning love lost. It’s what hurts the most.