Real Love.

It scares the shit outta me

It all depends on one's idea of love. What is love to you? Is it the strong security and stability of a relationship? Or is it the highs and lows along with the ebbs and flows of passion?

To me, it is both.

But what does real love feel like to me?

When you discover it, it feels like... you've been deprived of something big all your life. Like your sight, or your limbs. Like you've not realised, but you've been living paralysed. And you're slowly understanding and getting to used to that fact that you have these muscles that can be used. You have this arm. Or a leg.

And when you put them to the test, stretch them out to use them, they ache, because they are muscles you've never used in a long time, or never before.

Then.. you slowly get used to it. This thing that you never realised was a part of you, and you don't even know how you lived without it before.

In time, you maybe even take it for granted, because now you see it as something that has always been there. And maybe always will be.

I had a conversation with my mother the other day. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose a child who you have raised. I have heard that having a child is like having your beating heart live outside of your body.

The idea scares me senseless.. because I know not how to love in halves. When I love, truly love... I love wholly, truly and way too deeply.

But have you experienced that kind of love that renders you helpless?

No matter how you try to run. Hide. Fight. It's just there. Flowing through your veins. In your soul. Pulsing under your skin with every beat of your heart.

And when you lose it, or it disappears, it feels like death... because a part of you, a limb, has been chopped off. The same limb you discovered, started getting used to, savagely ripped from your body. And the pain.. and the grief that follows, especially if you don't understand why, is almost too much to bear.

I am scared of that kind love. And yet, I want it. I fight it, as much as I fight for it.

It is a love I call TOO. Too much.. Too soon.. Too fast.. Too intense.. Too good.. Too painful.. Everything about it is just... Too.

It sounds like young love. Puppy love. A phase. But you are, we are too old. Too jaded. Too cynical for that.

It would be so much easier to have someone who ticks all the boxes.

We all wish for a prince charming. A tall, dark and handsome man who drives a fancy car, whisks you to nice places, surprises you with nice things.

It would be easier, if it were that nice banker who thinks nothing of spoiling you with luxury holidays. That boy from the plutocratic family, who showers you with anything you want or need. That handsome actor, whom everyone desires. That supermodel that everyone openly lusts over. Or even that engineer, quiet and stoic and caring, who will do everything in his power to please you. Or even that fund owner who worships the ground you walk on.

It would have been easier, if it were anyone but you.

But no, love comes in many shapes and sizes and colors. It comes when you least expect it. It comes even when you don't want it.

And as much as I try. I can't help it.

It's you. Maybe it always has been. Always will be.

Love, is not a choice.
But choosing to stay and love... standing there, with my heart in hand..............


I don't know.