A
female
age
30-35,
followtheblackrabbit
writes:I'm the kind of girl who goes around barefoot, fights pessimism daily, and has thoughts wild enough to graze with antelope. I've heard love on the radio- songs that sigh heartbreak or gush with joy at finding someone who truly grasped their hearts. I've seen love in the fading eyes of a man and woman with lines and wrinkles swallowing their faces and world-wearied bodies ready to break. I've touched love when my sister, fourteen years younger, was first placed into my arms and I cried because she was so fragile, so needy and she was born into this life that could be so, so terrible. I cried when she grasped my thumb and tried in vain to find nourishment from it and I knew there would be too much I could never give her. On this site, I've read of so much pain. I go to bed at night and curse the plights most of us face just to feel wanted, needed, and loved. I wish we could all wrestle Cupid down and steal his arrows-choose who to forever love and who to forever love us. But alas, love is more complicated then an arrow's prick and anyways, we'd run out of celebrities and models. "If I should be so bold, I'd ask you to hold my heart in your hand..." -Jason Mraz "If it Kills Me"I saw him for the first time sitting in his car, looking just a little nervous. I tapped the window and he looked up, scrambled to get out. I didn't expect his hug or the kiss he placed on my cheek. I couldn't look at him full-on. Too shy. We drove around and spoke about too many things. The Beatles played and we sang softly the lines we liked best. He smiled. We parked by a pier and spoke about ourselves. Quiet...he turned to me and asked if he could kiss me. I kissed him, surprised at the softness of his lips, the taste that once became addictive. We pulled away, breathless and his hand trembled on his lap. Walking down the pier, we began to laugh at everything. At midnight, we went off to have breakfast and under the dimmed lights of a restaurant, his eyes startled me. Golden-brown, flecked with hazel with intelligence clearly brimming through...I told him they were beautiful. He blushed and said, "Yours are so lovely and dark, mysterious." I didn't expect him to hurt me. He did-just weeks later. I forgave, forgot. I was driven insane by his hand in mine, giggling over the phone late at night, and the way his patience shone sweet and true with the little sister I adored more than anything. We clung to one another and then, tried hard to allow distance. I remember him holding me once and how I cried tears unto his shirt, staining it and how he never noticed. I wanted to cling to my virginity, I wanted my youth, my adulthood, and my sanity. He battled me for it all. He wanted more than I could give. I could never tell him I loved him. "I can make you every promise that has ever been madeI can make all your demons be gone..." Air Supply, Making Love out of Nothing at All. There's promise in every one that capture our eyes. It's the promise that his arms will be the ones that protect you. The temptation to taste her lips and find peace there. The desire to be held and to know that despite the past mistakes, the flaws, and the difficult times- someone loves you without question. I understand people who allow hurt for the sake of that promise.But, I'm beginning to believe that romantic love isn't necessary for happiness. There are so many different sorts of love and they all can be filling to whom chooses not to devour them all. The most delicious fruit is that which falls unexpectedly...If one tries to force down love (any love), it can become something sickening, impure. In my short, short life, I've seen/suffered different heartbreaks that have nothing to do with romantic love. Today, I looked into a pair of sea-blue eyes and fell in madly in love. The owner smiled, nodded and opened the bookstore door to let me in ahead of him. I turned around, looked again at him to say thank you and fell deeper. In that moment, I would have allowed him a soul-wrenching kiss and a dagger to my heart. In the next second, he was once again a stranger. A stranger with a boyfriend (as I later saw). I laugh at those moments and wonder at my follies.There is no point to this article. I'm sorry. I thought I could say something but I truly haven't. I don't think I've lived enough yet to say anything new, old, or meaningful. I suppose this is a purge...There's another fascinating day (good or bad) waiting tomorrow and to end this one cuddled next to the tiny bundle that is my softly-snoring sister, has made it worth the slight angst that urged me to write this.
View related questions:
shy, swallow Reply to this Article
Share |
You can add your comments or thoughts to this article A
female
reader, sammi star  +, writes (21 October 2010):
 Really beautiful. You're a very talented writer and I hope you intend to share more articles with us!
A
female
reader, Dorothy Dix  +, writes (14 October 2010):
Hi there. Like everyone else, I think it's absolutely fantastic, and so soulful.
You should do it for a living.
You could write volumes on romantic love. You're very talented indeed.
Please keep it up. It's great!!!!
...............................
A
female
reader, glassblower  +, writes (13 October 2010):
 This was beautiful and poignant. I love it.
...............................
A
female
reader, followtheblackrabbit +, writes (12 October 2010):
followtheblackrabbit is verified as being by the original poster of the question Thanks everyone :)
...............................
A
female
reader, Dragon-Angel +, writes (12 October 2010):
 That... was the most beautiful thing I have ever read. It was very well done and heart wrenching. Good job! *pats on back*
...............................
A
reader, anonymous, writes (11 October 2010): This is beautifully written, I love it. You have a unique style here that I find very appealing. I hope you feel inspired to write more. Beneath the beautiful words you type, there are deeper things, things which I am keen to try and grasp and understand. Thank you for sharing this. :-)
...............................
A
reader, anonymous, writes (11 October 2010): Love comes knocking
Comes knocking upon our door
But you and me, love
We don't live there anymore
A little sleep, a little slumber
A little folding of the hands to sleep
A little love, a little hate, babe
A little trickery and deceit
Dream on till you can dream no more
For all our great plans, babe
Will be dreams forever more
...............................
A
female
reader, DenimandLace44 +, writes (11 October 2010):
 No, its much better than a romance novel. It's real. ;)
...............................
A
female
reader, followtheblackrabbit +, writes (10 October 2010):
followtheblackrabbit is verified as being by the original poster of the questionlol! Maybe. This is female purging so hm, I guess so :p
...............................
A
male
reader, Jmtmj +, writes (10 October 2010):
 Is this what romance novels are like..?
...............................
|
