What does Love mean to you?

What does love mean to you?  

Is it a feeling of admiration laced up with genuine intent of wanting to make the person you love feel abundance in yourself and the external world’s circumstances? Maybe you want to love, but maybe you don’t. I strongly believe that love can be found in every street corner in the mundane of getting by. The distinction is quite blurred, but the feeling expresses itself just fine. Is it possible to be in love while being so unsatisfied with your own self that the feeling eats you up while you wait to try to decipher if love is actually what you feel? 

One might want to be admired for who they are or bask in the essence of someone they want to be around, but one may also find it sickeningly nauseating. The feeling manifests itself in more forms than one and the readiness to accept it doesn’t always make it easy to process the reality of the fact that love is painful. To be able to accept anyone for who they are, it is a difficult task for sure. The distinctions and boundaries blur when your common sense becomes uncommon playground for your hopes and the idea of love itself. 

This brings me to my next question. Can love be found in flesh and bones? Yes and No. The ‘being’ in love is just immersed so deeply that it doesn’t ever question, it never second doubts the unfair realities that love invites with itself. Is it pretty? Absolutely not! But it could be kind, as kind as the flesh and bones wants it to be, as kind as the being’s conscious deciphers love to be. Love for me though, has never been kind on the very long run. Momentary affliction draws itself long enough for me to get the taste of how it all could be, but affliction is not permanency, and neither is love for me. 

Love wreaked havoc in my life long ago. The site now filled with carcasses of dead yesterdays, lies barren and untouched, for i cannot clean it yet. The ghosts linger in my conscious and make me want things i must not want and claw on the love for affection the way i want it to be. Is love controlling though? I don’t believe it is, i never did. Even though i have seen the worst examples of love manifesting into disgust in my early life, i genuinely believe that it is kind. But then, why does one feel so engulfed if not for control? 

One must not believe love is free. It demands a price to be paid; it needs you to process and compromise. Since love is patient, either it's you that’s going to be LOVE or your counterpart, be it your family, friends or even partners. There is no way around it, you either become it or wait for someone else to become it.  

Companionship always means love but love doesn’t always depend on the idea of companionship. It only takes one to love, oneself or the others, independently and selflessly. The accumulation of one’s expectation has nothing to do with the companion involved, if one is in a relationship, it only has everything to do with oneself. So,tell me what does love actually mean to you?  

The wretched hate

The Wretched Hate 

I told you i was scattered around like confetti on some stale cake, that is to say my aesthetic or characteristic value could never be forgotten beyond the rottenness of the place i am at. Noone would dare even touch it, let alone taste. Another cliche, bloody Mary, i want to play, invite her over and watch her pinning numbers on my head, be thoughtless, no mind at all! I rarely mind, maybe that's why when i do, my tears fall like a glacier's remains, it's flooding. My heart is an ice and you broke it, just let it slip from your hands, you broke it, i thought you wouldn't. 

It's human nature, it could all be so easy, you and me and us and everything. your side-glances hurt me more than anyone's hands could , maybe your hands could hurt me more than any hands could, because they are meant to be soft. Your silence makes my heart bleed, so much. I can only bleed so much before i collapse, crying and throwing up because out of everyone else, you're not supposed to make me cry. Your face reminds me of something warm and kind and so does your touch, how can your words and indifference be so Antarctic?

I can't confuse affection for the lack of it, but if i don't get loved the way my language is, why would i want it? Why must i want it? Tell me? Please? Why am i not lovable? I keep playing the victim because open wounds that closed for so long hurt when someone rips the stitches, now its rotten too, the flesh around it must smell. I am so repulsive that my mind picks the empathy game, i empathize with anyone but me. I am hurt and i am sane, i don't need life to remind me that hurt has been my friend. Please! no more.

The God Dilemma

The God Dilemma

There's the urge to kill myself, not me but her, the one whose flesh I feed and nurture. I keep going in roundabouts ways and the fragments of memories seem to be the little plays that could have been played out differently altogether. The rebellion is baseless; the acts acted upon it is pointless too. From all the things in the universe, the entitled 'god' sins the most, it's the moral shade that holds the deliberative harm by forged lie of kindness and promised comparison, which by default, doesn't add up. If I'd question, you'd ask me why? and ridicule me when my words aren't leaning towards your answers. If God existed, he must come to me and all I'll want to know is 'Has he sinned today?'. For i believe being human was the default to sin, excused my chivalry for self-effacing jokes and confused your mockery for love. I assumed he'd know not to do something detrimental. i just assumed the god's gender, didn't i? my bad! let me put it this way, i believe they don't care much. I'm small, infinitesimal but tiny.

But i imagined, in the universe without God, I'd have still searched for it, the all-knowing entity sounds quite of an escape. Existence is a spider web, and you're a mere fly. That's the way i see it because the only way out for you would be death. The idealisms and the efforts, the act of finding God would actually mean something to me there, because I'd know they aren't there, I think I'd be compelled to search more. In this universe, I'd just declare me God and rule over it. The universe without, without God is yours. All yours. And the joy of imagining it is wicked.