To think of you is to embrace you in your entirety and tell you, "I love you so much, you are my heart, my soul, and it is because of you that life is both beautiful and cruel." It is your smell I miss the most, such comforting familiarity that breaks my heart as time erodes you from my memory; how much we rely on smell to recall memories and the spaces they filled in our lives, molecules, now forever gone.
We have the capacity to love in multitudes, we love objects and places and people but that usually happens after a certain length of time, of knowing and getting to know a thing, a place or a person because everything before it, is a projection, we have yet to know and understand and grasp the complexity or simplicity. We cannot love something we do not know. We cannot love someone at first sight because what we love is an idea of who we think they are, a sweet infatuation, dreaming up endless possibilities of all the things and wishes and hopes we want them to be. Love exists in corners and smells and lingering touches, it exists, waiting, growing and expanding as we become acquainted and situated.
because sometimes the only way to be seen is to leave, to mark your absence in the silence that fills the space between you and me. when the growing pains that sweep you off your feet and take you further away, deeper into the person you want to become and will blossom into, and we stop seeing the future the way we had imagined, the light that no longer shines, excitement and love, glimmering faintly away at moments past and you know it's time to go, onto the path you're so scared to walk because change is everything and nothing will ever be the same, only it will, but different, better, more hopeful, readjusting and realigning to the positions we ease into, one breath, one movement, one step at a time.
it's a slow burn that creeps up on you, envelops and ruins you. it sinks its teeth into your soft flesh and it festers, if left untreated. its the gnawing feeling that something is wrong, the constant state of unhappiness, an emptiness that spills into your thoughts, a soft hum, that drones in the silence that fills the walls, scratching.
there's a subtle line between aloneness and loneliness. one grants salvation and reprieve while the other breeds discontent and isolation. too much or too little and we lose ourselves.
but connection, intimacy, vulnerability - relieve the tension that comes with loneliness and eases us into a state of equilibrium.
I came to the conclusion that infinite worrying isn't the solution to my problems. We exist on a rock hurtling through space, no matter how much I fuck up, it won't make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Is this liberation or confidence in my ability to weather through the storm? Whatever it is, I feel as though I've finally found my footing.