Inconspicuously Clever Title

Question everything, but most often yourself

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“She lifts her skirt up to her knees Walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughing And I never learned to count my blessings I choose instead to dwell in my disasters…”

— Ray LaMontagne, Empty (via plantlogy)


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My heart aches for him. And it makes me angry. Or sad. It makes me sad. The anger is just trying to cover up how vulnerable I feel.

I’m not mad at him, I’m mad at myself. For loving so easily. So readily. Because when you find the goodness in someone it is so easy to love. And I always look for the good, because to do otherwise would be too depressing, too painful. So I find the good and I hold it in my mind, like a light. A light that shines around each person. And it makes this usually sad existence a little brighter.

But when you find someone that burns with their own light, someone that is good without the looking, it is amazing. If there is a light I can see right away, that somehow I identify with, can connect with - oh I fall in love. So quickly. So purely.

But love is transient. Yes, love is transient. The feeling will always be there as a memory, and new love can grow but love, the exact way you feel it right now, is transient.

And normally I can recognize the love I feel and let it pass. But right now… with him. I’m clinging to it. Like it is the last vestige of a broken ship and I am alone in the ocean.

But I wanted to be alone. To float freely, to swim under my own power. But it is comforting, having him float next to me.

But I’m never sure if he will be there when I reach for him. He has been so far. But I have no guarantee, no understanding, no agreement that we will hold each other up when we get tired. We are just floating next to each other. Our hands brushing, our bodies colliding together occasionally.

And it kills me because I want to pull him close. And tell him the truth. About how I feel. About how much I enjoy him, exactly as he is.

But I’ve told myself that isn’t what I wantHe’s said it isn’t what he wants
And I’m afraid he won’t love me the way I love him.
I’m afraid he will see my imperfections and run.
That my light will fade and he will see me for who I truly am and he will know I am not worthy. That I’m not good enough. The illusion will fade, and so will the infatuation. And then I will be alone,and not of my own doing. With the deep internal knowledge that I am not acceptable or desireable.

That someone who is good, that tries to see the good in others, would look into me and not find that inner light… That feeling is terrifying.

And so I’m frozen. Between bliss, and anger, and fear, and sadness. Unsure what to do. Unsure what to tell him. Except to whisper “I adore  you” into his chest once I know he’s fallen asleep.

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Letting go of something you’ve long believed you should want is the best gift you can give yourself, because it translates directly into the freedom and permission to figure out what you really do want, and then you can go off and start kicking some serious ass at that thing instead.

Nicole Antoinette, from her e-book “Stop Making Excuses and Start Running”

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