I Want to Love You



The rebels at the thought of loving someone on purpose. Love feels grander when it's like being struck by lightning. To be honest, love writes better when you slip then drown in the middle of the ocean; when you take a walk in the woods and suddenly catch fire. I love it when things take my by surprise and I spend the next two moments in delighted confusion, breathless. I even love it sometimes when it's as if feelings have taken me by the throat and won't let go. 

Walking into love sounds so mundane on days in which I am more words than person. Submerging myself into a body of water by stepping down a set of stairs feels insincere. Taking a shovel and spending the night digging a hole to bury myself in reads like too much effort and too forceful of a process. Except. Except, I've romanticised everything; I've romanticised love. It doesn't feel enough anymore.

Time passes, things happen. I learn how a lot more things than I thought are, in truth, decisions and choices instead of accidents and stars aligned.

Perhaps I've been wrong.

Walking into love is less about the absence of magic and more about the power of choices. I see it now. This is about loving someone on purpose, having my hands on the wheel and choosing to drive down that path with them. This is standing at the beach, seeing blue blue blue all the way until my eyesight fails me, wanting to submerge my being in it, and swimming towards it. This is waking up at dusk and planting a garden for us with a future in my mind, eyes wide open.

I suppose I do get breathless at the thought of knowing someone just enough to feel the beginning of a supernova, smelling ripe of possibilities and stories unwritten just yet. I'm not prepared for the way I am open to how I get to choose someone out of everyone else in the world and say, 'I want to love you'. 

I could do it with you. I know I could. Let me love you. I know I could

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