Learn to love again... wholeheartedly

I love too much. That is where things get messy. People are delicate creatures, and it frightens me that I can fall so easily and all-consumingly in love. I also come out too unscathed when the time comes to part ways… I will always love the ones in my past, but I know I’ve hurt them so much. I can feel it perpetuating now, my immense love for the one I have and the desire for the one I had. The eternal “what if?”
I am so happy with him, so why do I want another? I wish pining was less fun, so that simple swooning would be enough.

Well. I am on the brink of falling in love again, which probably means that i have already but am as yet unwilling to admit it. Hmm. Frankly, i am terrified. I keep remembering the local aboriginal saying: “Pata mamunya jiranga”, meaning leave it alone for a bit, give it some time to grow. I’m scared that i could kill desire just by stressing about it too much, and i don’t want to do that. Everyone says relax, enjoy yrself. Ha! Easy enough to say if you are not a socially malajusted freak like myself…

This is wonderful. I feel…free. Breathless and giddy, content and alive. God. I could be with him forever, and I know it won’t ever be forever but I don’t care. Now is all that matters, and I love him. He’s an artist. He will take me on wonderful adventures. And I think I’m finally ready to be swept away.

You’re right; it seeps down to the atomic level, burrowing into the nucleus of every single cell. Love (and all that entails) manifested in millions of gestating pockets, growing or festering and affecting everything, fucking it up more often than not. I desperately miss surrendering myself entirely to another person, being swept away by glances and words and arms all tangled up together. I thought I wanted to try again, and I do, I just don’t know if I’ve healed enough yet. Too much is clinging on. The last time, I ended up hurting everyone involved and the millions of tiny love-wombs exploded one by one. It took months for them all to die, the graphic little love-abortions, and I’m still feeding a couple of them, nurturing them when I should just let it go, just because it feels so good to love (even if its unrequited). But I need to quit it. I need to devote myself to the wonderful amazing boy who loves me back, even if we need to repair some old wounds, prying them open, watching them ooze and ache before stitching it up properly, violently cracking and setting to heal. To become something really good. I don’t want it to be forced, though. I want to genuinely love again with all my being, uninhibited and powerless against the throes of love. How epic.
But he deserves as much.

Bleurgh… what to say about this. Well, it’s been 7 years since i last loved, i mean really loved; every cell in my body has changed and i’m still in this curious state of emotional stasis. The hurt is going, even if hope constantly needs undercutting. I’m looking, i have a dear friend in my last ex and a casual bonk who i’d love to be something more (but she doesn’t think we would work, and she’s probably right), i’m booked into some head-shrinkage in 2 weeks and am rather scared about what might come up. Is it me? Is it circumstance? Am i destined to end up like my loony aunt or my lonely, pragmatic mother? Am i damaged goods now? Can i ever love again with that joyful, radiating innocence, or is that lost to me now? I have to find a way back.