I’m done. I am giving in, and giving up. I thought, at one time, I knew what love was. The warmth. The comfort. The happiness. And the sense of belonging. And it was all of that, but it was also more. It was hurt. It was pain. It was a visceral rending of my soul. Love was a fire that was kindled in my heart, and kept it beating. But then it got out of control. It started raging. And when it departed, it left a burnt husk that was scarcely recognizable.
But I rebuilt myself. I steeled the walls of my heart. I wanted to know love again, but I wanted to be prepared for the heat next time. It took some time, but I thought that I had found someone that I would willingly allow to rekindle a little flame. I didn’t expect much, but I was open to it. And the more I learned, the larger the flame grew. Bigger. And bigger. And bigger. Dare I say it, was there love again? I don’t know; how could I? But it was there, bringing a little more warmth to me with each passing day. And it felt good, so… so good. I started to stoke it, encouraging it with dreams and hope that were a foolish disregard for what I had learned in the past. I allowed myself to dare to hope that she might be the one. But I thought the last was the one, as well. But there was something different with her; something, whole. Even subconsciously, I wanted her, without knowing it was her. I felt like Quasimodo with Esmeralda: “I dared to dream that she, might even care for me.”
And there may be some truth to that notion, somewhere down inside her. But, I’ll never know. I’ve given in, and I’ve given up. Perhaps it’s a cliche instance of the right person at the wrong time, or perhaps it’s simply me placing her on a pedestal; I’ll never know. This pain isn’t worth it, to feel over and over, day in and day out. Knowing that she’s right there, sometimes literally within arm’s reach, and there’s nothing that I can do. A topic of discussion was made the other night, and actions after it were the apex of the pain. I won’t say that the flame grew beyond control again; I don’t believe it got that far. Rather, it ignited the scorched wounds from before. There is no longing for lovers past, nor desire to know their arms again. But the freshly renewed scars are those of longing in such a primordial and fundamental way, that I cannot ignore them. I’ve given up, and I’m giving in. If what I feel now is a result of emotions that hadn’t even had the chance to culminate, I’m scared of what might happen were they allowed to with someone again. There was a very real, and very painful, crack in my heart. I could feel the desire to go on slipping away like wine from a broken glass. What was a night of revelry and joy quickly turned to a night of hurt and sorrow. And I’m done.
I am done feeling it all. I am done allowing myself to be subject to the unwitting whims of others. I’m done allowing damnable emotion run my life. I am done quietly acquiescing to the irrational demands of a love-sick heart. I’m done being burned. Instead of simply steeling the walls of my heart again, in an attempt to make them a bit more fire-proof, I am erecting a veritable fortress in which my heart may find solitude and solace, never to be burned again.
It’s time to focus on me. It’s time to stop wasting energy trying to find the “missing part”. I am not broken. I am not a puzzle that needs a piece the manufacturer mistakenly left out. I am not a lock that requires a key to be of use. I am whole. I am important. I am me. Despite the connotations of the attached song, I see no obstacle. I see no woman. I see no love. Between the Devil and me, there is nothing. The fires have taken it all, and I will walk boldly into the world knowing this. The blackened chasm within my chest will be made new again. The flesh of those walls will beat again. But not with love. No, not with love.
They instead will beat with a ferocity rivaling the power of the Sun. New focus will be refined from their cosmic rhythms. A new me will begin to grow, and fill that vast expanse. A cynical me. A colder me. A better me. And when I have had the necessary time to gestate, there will be nothing that I cannot do. There will be no obstacle in my way. I will look through, and see beyond each step I take, and I will take them in strides that will the earth shaking. Nothing will stop me. Nothing will slow me. Nothing will burn me again.
To live in love, is to live in fear.
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
I must not love.
Love is the mind-killer.
Love is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my love.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the love has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
Let the lover die, and let the monster rise. I am me.