Oh, how I love Love. A feeling of enchantment that I have yet to fully encounter or experience. A feeling I so eagerly and desperately want to experience. A feeling I crave, a sentimental value through looks, through touch: both physical and mental.
The ability to grasp someone's attention through simple affection and aroma. Someone who craves you fully both physically and mentally. Someone who values your every being and stares at you in depth with so much passion that all you can do is crack and produce butterflies within you internally. The feeling of flames is both exhilarating and thrilling. A feeling which produces softness and fragility. A feeling that caves in and holds one in as nest of nectar. A feeling that ages like wine, only growing finer and finer while never losing its original taste yet gaining an abundance of piquancy.
The feeling of love is something outsiders can feel through emotion and encasement; for someone who has yet to fully experience this with no one sided syndrome or half-ass meant, I can feel it in about everything I see.
Movies are a form of entertainment I once detested, yet the moment I began this journey I found myself engaged with different forms of romance in both chronicle and cinema. Cinematic presentations which could wrap someone in such a state of intimacy, and fondness, a state of tender felt passion, and delight; the feeling of thorough jealousy because of the worship each character gained. Worship through character and humor, through image and soul. Vigorous worship which could make outside forces crumble and bawl.
This last week I have found myself so angry and so immensely filled with the simple fact that I have not received the love I pour out. The value and upliftment, the way I take account of everything I am told that way I never forget. The way I can confess to them through acts and gifts that they were seen, heard, and are intently loved.
I know what love is. I know how to love. I know these things yet still to this day am unaware of what it feels like to be loved. I know I am a person who is easily pleased with little expectations. Someone who does not need the world because the person who is for her has the world within. I know what love is and I know that I do not deserve anything less. I know my worth yet this longing feeling from within is beginning to eat me alive.
Through this journey I have learned myself. I have cared for myself as well as found peace, joy, habit-ary growth, and solace. I have found myself yet now I wonder am I enough for me.
I have learned the ends and out, have done the work, the research, the performances, and have been okay with my own embrace, yet now the feeling of incompetence and the yearning for someone else has grown strong and fierce. I can stand my ground, I do not need someone to feel whole and complete, but I know that this feeling will break me inside out.
In these cinematic movies I watched within the last 24hours: Dear John, The last Letter from Your Lover, The Vow, Love, Rosie etc.; and I noticed that each form of movie had one underlining similarity outside of love.
lost.
A loss in physicality, touch, memory, and time. Each movie for their love to be stronger than it ever was, they had to first lose each other to see what it was that was lost. The previous version of love was newlyweds. It was exotic, fresh, exhilarating, and immensfull. But it did not last. It remained, yet there was always a pivotal moment that led them astray before they could completely become whole.
Thats movie shit, I do not want that lost shit.
I have experienced enough loss to last me a lifetime. (Not really but I am good at it).
The love I see in my future does not need pivotal moments to be recognized for what once stood. The love I crave is love that will truly withhold and withstand any and every hurdle hand in hand. The love I want is more than a fairytale because this love is possible. This love will defy all gravitas and will be one of its own. A story with no middle or end, a story with the movement of lightlessness. Not fast and rushed, nor forgettable; but one that will move according to its own will. One that will bask in each moment and remain still in its intellectual presence of intravital force. Thats the love I hope for, not the one I seek. One who seeks either never finds or finds what is not truly theirs.
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