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In looking for something I thought about the things that make the world go round, the drivers, makers, shakers and breakers of this world. I found love. Love with its binary pole Loneliness. Some might argue Hate is the binary pole of Love, but think about it, absence of Love equals loneliness does it not? Absence of Hate does not necessarily equal Love. No matter who you are, or what you do, follow your drivers down to their source and you will find Love. Everything we do is charged and fuelled by a love of something. Love is the source.
So many songs are about and probably inspired, ie driven by, Love. All You Need is Love, apparantly. Of course it depends what you believe in. You could argue that we also need food and water or we die. However, if you carry that idea through in terms of my belief: If you die because of this maxim you die happy, and when you get to heaven all you need there is God, and God is love, so... yes, perhaps the Beatles were right. A life with no Love at all would be a pointless existence. Empty and without purpose.
Two people become one when they sleep together. True enough, and you leave a bit of yourself behind in that person when you do so. Which is why it's so painful to see your exes with new partners. Sex isn't always love, but it does bond you. No matter how easy you might find it to have it "a la carte" it leaves a mark on you that you can't remove. Sex is merely love in physical form. And love leaves deep stinging scars. Sex without love is empty, sex without love hurts until you become immune to the pain.
Jealousy: the sinister side of love. Why does it feel like cheating when you're not even going out with someone? Maybe because you're so obsessed, so utterly into this person, that even though there's no arrangement between you, that when you kiss somebody else while thinking not of the person whose lips are touching yours, but the beautiful lips of the one you love, you feel like you have been unfaithful. Love hurts. It's like an aching. And guilt is not the only painful emotion to go with it. Jealously hurts too. Jealousy is like knives stabbing at your heart.
There are certain times when kisses really melt your insides. Is it when there is the element of surprise? Or when the kisses are just so soft, gentle and tender, that the whole world around you just disappears, just becomes irrelevant, and all you can think of, or rather all you can do is… feel… It just blows you away and you wonder how you could ever leave this person, and you realise that you truly do love them. It just has to be one of those kisses. You'll know what those kisses are if you've had one. You'll know.
"You just don't love me enough" she said softly, her words a faint whisper, a mere breath away from his face. "No… too much" came his soft reply. He lay his perfect lips upon hers, kissing her tenderly, warming her with his arms and body as he held her closer to him. His dear heart, his precious one. He could not explain the yearning he had to let go and tell her just how much he felt, just how much he wanted to be hers forever. But she was too precious to waste on an experimentation of his true feelings.
We soldiers fight for the man on our left and the man on our right. Love binds armies as much as families. The love of soldiers for other soldiers. I loved a soldier. I loved him with every ounce of my being. And he ceased to be a soldier, but I did not cease to Love him. He never started loving me. He felt more for the people he would fight with than he felt for me. He would have died for them. But not for me. There is only one man who would, and did die for my life.
Love… …is all around, is the strongest emotion, is total agony, lasts a lifetime, is all you need, binds families, is unending, is a score of zero in a tennis match, changes everything, hurts, is friendship set on fire, knows no bounds, is selfless, is kind, is self-sacrificing, is irrational, is blind, is smiling on the inside and out, keeps no record of wrongs, never dies, is a moment that lasts forever, is a state of mind, is an eternity of gorgeous moments, is powerful, feeds the soul, goes on, is not proud, speaks in different languages, Love is indescribable.
I was in a bit of a quandary as to what to write my one hundred words on today. And then something happened that made me glow. You know that feeling you get when everything seems to go right? The scientists would have us believe that it's endorphins being released in the brain, fair enough say I, but what about the change that happens in the soul? It's not chemical, it's ethereal. When you lie in the arms of someone you love nothing else matters except the moment, the sensation of absolute calm, of belonging, of oneness. You feel whole.
"What could be worse than the total agony of being in love?" Total agony. Yes, total agony. Think of the feeling of desperation and frustration, the agony and pain of loving someone with every ounce of your soul and they're either oblivious to it, do not requite it, or worse still, you watch them every day, burning with love and jealousy, as they love another with every ounce of their soul. It hurts. It's true. Worse still if you have found a reciprocated mutual love yet those other people you cherish don't feel the same way. Think Romeo and Juliet!
The love of a friend. "Greater love has nobody than he who would lay down his life for his friends." The most profound, deep, and true love. The love of a Master turned servant, a King turned pauper, a Lord scorned, despised and spat upon. For me. For his friend. And even for those who were not his friends. Looking with nothing but love in his eyes at those that spat on him. Such love baffles comprehension, breaks walls, induces tears. Such love has never been seen or will ever be seen again. "Did e'er such love and sorrow meet?"
You can love a place. Love it so much that you never want to leave. If and when you do it's like your heart is ripping in two, and you want to cry and never stop. You can love a place that much, but it stems from loving people. It's all tied up to that essential truth that says that all people need to love and be loved, moving away can mean a loss of that love for some, and it hurts, and we miss the people more than the place. But then I loved Chile for what it was.
The sky in Norfolk seems so much bigger than up north. I don't really know why, maybe something to do with the fact that there are no buildings obstructing its view on either side, that it's just flat fields on either side of you and endless, glorious blue, rolling clouds for as far as you care to look up and on either side of you. It reminds me of Chile. It's the closest I've got in England. Only difference is of course there are no volcanoes ripping the horizon and the sky did seem bluer in Chile. Blue like forget-me-nots.
Familiarity breeds contempt. Does it? Isn't familiarity also a sign of the deepest affection, devotion and care sometimes? The familiarity of family, of husbands and wives, of two people madly in love. If you don't mind seeing someone naked, with all their fat bits on display, if you can put up with smelly feet and bodily functions, you just know that you love them, and no matter what they do they can never be anything less than beautiful in your eyes. But then I suppose it can turn sour like milk turns to cream. I hope my familiarity never will.
The eyes are the window to the soul. Facial expressions tell you what a person is feeling, and to an extent give you a general overview of what they are thinking. But look deep into your lover's eyes and you will see something else. Look beyond the pale brown, almost hazel iris, into those unending dark pupils, and you'll see something he tries so hard to hide. Deep passionate love. And when you're making love, take a peek, and you will see desire, passion, devotion in his eyes. Make love with lights on or you don't get the full view.
Silky skin brushes softly against skin, two bodies, pale in the moonlight, move to the rhythm of their love. A hand reaches up and cups a face, kissing deeply, loving, pouring love, sweet love, from one mouth to another. Firm strokes, gentle caresses, breathing the love-scent from each other's bodies, living fully, senses awakened, loving, adoring, worshipping one another, appreciating and caring, holding on, loving. Such is the love act and such is the reason I cannot conform to it being smutty or dirty, why porn insults me to my very core. The most perfect union, why so oft defiled?
Deep velvety night. The witching hour. A scuttle of tiny feet pitter-patter pitter-patter across the landing. The little mouse stops for a moment, nose high in the air, whiskers twitching. He hears, nay smells danger and stands, stock still on his hind legs before scurrying again. A silky feline slips stealthily through the black on silent feet. Her ears prick expectantly, her tail is erect behind her. She pads gracefully towards the tiny rodent, who is now pinned to the spot with fright. "Don't eat me!" he says. A yellow-slit eye becomes level with him as she leans smoothly downwards.
All is dry when unexpectedly a patter of rain begins. Thunder rumbles and electricity rolls around in the heavy black clouds like bread dough kneaded through adept fingers. The sky rattles with energy and great shards of sky rip through the clouds and onto the ground. Moments later a deep, wrenching booming emerges from the sky again, and the rain sluices down like sheets from the steely-grey of the storm. Small creatures run for cover in the hedgerows, birds fluff up their feathers against the rain as water droplets pound the dry earth which drinks deep of the sky's bounty.
I have a cunning plan. At least it might be cunning. I make decisions for this guy all the time, like what he'll drink, what he'll eat, even what he'll wear. He just can't make decisions because he hates taking the plunge into the unknown for fear that he'll get hurt. But if I make the decision for him and tell him he has no choice in the matter, why then that's the answer isn't it? Of course he could still argue with me and probably will, in fact I'll probably get nowhere, but there's always hope. We're perfect together.
Deprivation of love is like deprivation of food. I'm doing both at the moment, and both of them are so difficult. It's crazy. I know cold turkey is the only way I can heal my heart from love-fullness and love-sickness, but I'm so confused about my feelings. Sometimes I'm convinced I was in love, and that he was the one, other times I'm just not sure, and other times I'm convinced that he's not right for me. My resolve comes from the fact that God told me from the beginning that he wasn't right for me romantically. It'll be alright.
Everyday is like opening a new door on the advent calendar. You don't know what you're going to get, and after the initial anticlimax that comes when you open the door or open your eyes, you're counting down the days to something bigger. I'm counting down the days til my Lord comes again, not as a tiny helpless baby, but as a beautiful, powerful man, riding on the clouds. But I shouldn't be wishing my life away. Every moment should be a mini destination. Enjoy the ride and
destination will come on you unnoticed, and take your breath away.
Love is like warm puppies. I was out for a walk, my hand entangled in a larger, warm, coocooning hand of love, and a white front door opened, out stepped a golden labrador, and before the old-timer had stepped over the threshold a small, fuzzy, warm and snuggly white and tan puppy cantered lop-sidedly out of the house, legs a kimbo, little body shaking to the beat of the vigorous tail-wagging as he approached me, bold as brass, and let me stroke him, finding my hand with his tender tongue and kissing me enthusiastically, without fear. Love is warm puppies.
Stars pulse solemnly in a deep ink sea of sky. I love darkness. I often write about it. And that's because I used to be afraid of the dark. I used to have the light on and the door open every night. I was terrified of monsters, burglars, maybe sometimes just the dark itself. But now I like it. Now for some reason I find safety in its velvety folds, it hides me away. I find God in silence. Even in the darkest place. That's why I no longer fear it. God made the darkness, God enfolds me in it.
Freedom? Only a month and a bit left before I'm completely free from university... it's so weird. I haven't even thought about graduating until now.... and now, here I am, a mere 6 weeks away from the end of an era - a four year intensive time - a cacophony of good times and bad, all balancing out to a splendid experience. Let's face it, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I've met some people I'd rather live without, but I've also made some rock-solid friendships. And I have grown a great deal. I hardly recognise myself anymore.
I still haven't spoken on the phone to SW. This is probably the longest I've gone without talking to him. Close call last night when in my drunken state I decided to call him - but he didn't answer thank goodness.... he did call me later but I was half asleep so didn't answer in time... and he left me an answerphone message which I listened to but didn't respond to... just txted him today with an innocent "sorry, I called you by accident". I hate lying to him. I will have to try and avoid doing that in future.
The rambler is not methodological in her approach. Do not expect coherence. It is simply the way of the world that things occur randomly, without warning, and she records them as such, out of sync, out of order. Order is way too overrated. Some of what I say makes little or no sense to people. Take for instance my desire to meet a nice Christian boy. "I didn't realise Christians were so insular" says one person. "If your God is one of love why would he stop you being with someone you love?" If I had anymore words I'd explain!
Skin tight lycra trousers, lycra crop tops, bikinis, spaghetti straps, shorts, skirts, thongs, stockings and suspenders. Why do I feel like a social lepper because of my size? Supermodels, singers, actresses, dancers, sportspeople, tv presenters, magazine reporters. Why do they make me feel like I'm not good enough? Chocolate, ice cream, alcohol, crisps, chips, take aways, pizza. Why do I seek solace in the things that turn me into something that I hate and make me feel like a social lepper? If you want irony, in all it's stark, evil and glaring menace, there it is for you to see.
One day I'll go sailing again. Sailing on a big blue open ocean, with nothing but the sun on my back and the wind at my heels. Speedily gliding through a beautiful blue, steering the rudder a touch to stay on track, feeling salty light spray on my face, breathing in the clean cool air. One day I'll go flying again. Nothing between me and oblivion but a thin sheet of steel and glass, the small engine humming, the wings buffeted by gales up there, the puffy white clouds and the forget-me-not blue of the sky. Sailing, flying in blue.
"It feels like I'm in love". But if you've never felt it how do you know for sure it is love? And what's the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone? People talk about it like there's a difference. Is the difference merely lust and sex? Maybe. You don't get that giddy giggly feeling over your mum or your dad or your sister. You don't feel like you're going to fall over because your legs are jelly when your best friend kisses you. So, if you're IN LOVE, can you just revert back to simply loving them?
I hate it. I want to click my fingers and go back to before the kiss, when we were just mates, simple "tea buddies". What fun we had. If I could do that I wouldn't have to do all this no contact nonsense. If I'd never kissed him I wouldn't have to get over him. But maybe it's better this way, because I wouldn't be anywhere near as good a friend of his if we hadn't got closer, because we simply would have drifted apart. It wasn't the kisses that bound us, the kisses were a result of the bond.
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