-I might delete this later. Snippets from a long reflection.
My intention in writing this was not to do what I ordinarily do when discussing my emotions. Usually, I take into account perspective, the other person’s experience, emotions, thoughts, the dynamics of a situation…all things that in some ways qualify my emotions or make it so my emotions can’t just be what they are. I situate them in context and in relationships with others, which may be realistic to how the world and people operate but also removes my visceral self from the picture. But the purpose of this is to let my emotions be as they are without the usual. I figured I’d try something new and be less in my head. The head talk comes from my heart, but I want to make the heart and body more prominent. I hurt when you hurt, and I want to push myself to make the hurt known on a bodily level.
You ask me why I love you. How can I answer that accurately and completely? What does it feel like to love you? To love in general. No no that’s too abstract. Trying to concretely and definitely describe how love feels inside is futile. I can’t do it. It’s changing, elusive, and sort of like a warm blanket, soothing and relaxing every part of my body. I love you. Comfort and trust, grateful and appreciative for the chance to know you and form a friendship. Comfort. I don’t think in pictures, but when I think of comfort there’s me holding someone else, being with another, not needing to do anything but take enjoyment in this moment. Where’s the self-comfort that is for me and me alone? Oh counting my breaths helps. There I am- existing and living- the miracle that is life. Move my index finger toward my palm and watch in fascination at the slight dip in my wrist that forms as my hand bones (forsaking technicality here) respond to the movement. It’s simply beautiful and awesome.
I have detoured as is common in this sort of stream of consciousness business. Why do I love you? Oh honey…I sigh at the question, unhappily reassured you have such a skewed view of yourself. Unless you meant it as a philosophical question. Why does anybody love in the first place? No…why do I (me as a person in my context) love you (as a person in your context). I don’t know if its even possible to separate why I love you from what others may love, admire, or respect about you. Let me take a moment to fix a memory in my mind as best as possible, fix your presence in my mind. There you are, solid and real, sometimes vibrant and at other times seeming to fade away. What comes to mind and heart?
A slight smile forms. Hey you. Uncertainty. Am I helping you, hurting you, insignificant, register on your map of the world? Sometimes I think I register, but then there I go, disappearing. Gone from your memory and existence. I push back, forward, try in many ways to remind you I’m here. Here I am. Me. Am I visible? Sometimes you look at me, and I can tell you’re here with me in the moment. Other times it’s like you’re looking past me like I’m not there. That’s okay. I still want to hold you close. But not too close. A small laugh as I think about your passion (what’s left) and your ability to change people and impact them. I don’t want to restrain you or temper that passion and energy. Vitality. Discouraged shake of the head as I remember how much ed and life itself saps you of your vitality. Compassion fills me with warmth. Gold and green are how I would color compassion inside. Blue and grey of peace and centering.
Bewilderment. How can you not see what is so evident to me? How can you not know it in your own heart? You amaze me. Hurting and hoping, loneliness and aloneness, who the hell am I really? But you keep going despite what I picture as a crushing brown-gray boulder of misery. I just love you. The light and spark that’s inside you is so beautiful, and I wish very much for the day when that spark becomes you. When you shine and dazzle for real. You’re hurt and scarred, bruised but not broken, weary and lonely. I picture you in a room full of people with an invisible circle around you, keeping you separate from them and alone. How do you cross the circle? I try to cross sometimes but would be naïve to think I have or can right now. Or even have the right to cross, like you’d want me there, like it’d be a positive aspect for you. Another image. You with many masks, many faces, changing them constantly. Who is underneath the mask? Where can you be you without masks, without a cover or act, no matter what “you” means?
My left arm wraps around my stomach, and I grasp my hoodie. Pressing inward, protectively but gently. Invaluable- you are invaluable. There is nobody else like you. Be safe honey. Come back to yourself. Figure out who you are as best as possible. I love you even though you don’t know who you are. It’s strong- this love I feel for you- and constant. Present always in its indescribable way. I have forsaken labels when it comes to understanding our bond. They get in the way, minimize and constrain.
What I know is my life is better with you in it, and if the time comes when we part, I will be sincerely touched and grateful for you and our time together.