I'm in love with him.
He never leaves my mind, he's always there; mentally if not physically. It's just incomprehensible. He's my one stable force, my one stability in a world filled with chaos and I so desperately need that in my life. I love him so much for that. I’m in love with him and I can’t believe I’ve only just realised it.
This feeling is so strange; it stretches throughout my whole body. It’s overwhelming, yet makes me feel complete. It has no bound nor length nor depth; it’s just absolute. It feels as though I’m in a dangerous fire, yet I’m completely safe at the same time. It feels as though someone’s given me peace. It feels as though my heart is dancing around my chest; and a hole, I was never aware was there, has been filled. I feel so light, like I’m on top of the world yet my heart is constricting and it feels as if there’s no oxygen in my lungs.
It’s strange – frightening even – how you can go from someone being a complete stranger, to then being completely infatuated by them and wondering how it ever was that you were able to live without them, because you sure as hell couldn’t imagine being without them now. I know we’re only young, and most people would consider me to be foolish and naïve, but it’s true when I say that I love him more than I could ever love myself. He’s my best friend and, as cheesy as it sounds, he’s my anchor. My one stability in this world filled with chaos.
Depression has a floor, a rock bottom, and finding it is a blessing. When you hit it, when it feels as if you should stay down, you find a reason to get up. Perhaps it's your kid you get up for, maybe it's your pet dog, maybe it's just for the sake of finding out what happens tomorrow... but you get up. Then, my friend, it's rinse repeat. At the time it feels as if you have no strength, yet after days uncounted of all this, you are truly stronger than those who still wear the mask. You become the hope. You become a chance to give them heaven even as you walk through a personal hell. Yet since we are both here, in this flame pit others are oblivious to, perhaps we can become a heaven for each other. The road to hell is comfort and self-confidence - the road to heaven is lashings of pain. Maybe we'll be the ones who get there first. Maybe we'll be the ones with a little piece of true happiness, the ones with a love that can light up the world. Finding a love such as this isn't the reason I agreed to go to hell, I did it because I'm a weirdo freak who wanted to save creation, humanity too, but I asked for love if it was possible. So walk these fiery coals with pride. You're the only one who dared show up to join me. I love you for it. I always will. Of that you can be sure.
The dreamscape of the 2018 Venom movie is potent in the representation of the me vs. me struggle in difficult times, role modelling how to remain calm when there are so many sources of potential threat in our era. It can be challenging at times not to allow our own inner "Venom" to "bite people's heads off," yet as we learn to see this inner battle as our everyday reality, we have a real shot at learning how to become better people capable of dependable empathy.
That warm, raspy voice that possessed his cords that night, sent nerves dancing up my spine. His smile sent my mind into an uncontrolled, captivated spiral and his light touch lingered, it branded my soul with a simple mark: infatuation. To call it love would be a mockery of my heart, a symbol of my dying innocence. But every tempered word he spoke invaded my mind, like ivy tendrils seeking any point of weakness to enter; they wrapped my body in a blanket of comfort and consumed my soul in the heat of lust.
I remember that night in a soft, painful haze. It's the night that taught me the difference between love and infatuation. Love is unconditional, eternal... Infatuation? It dies.
Her face wasn't anything extraordinary or significant, and yet, he felt somehow magically draw to those serious and silent features. Though she always avoided his gaze, he couldn't help but notice her clean skin and lack of makeup, along with her always messy hairstyles. Perhaps many would consider her homely, but he found her awe-striking.
Feet firmly planted on the ground I look up at a defiant sky, the dome of our existence. I see no fairness there, no sense of responsibility. Some days are dark, angry, bitter spitting rain, hail, fire and brimstone. Others calm, serene with light fluffy clouds as if there wasn't a care in the world. Why? I ask myself are some people drawn towards the former, and others towards the latter.
Jasmine would often describe her baby as frenetic and fractious. 'She was born with a hurricane for a soul, that one,' she would say. But she said it in a loving way with that soft glow in her eyes that only a mother can have for such difficult offspring. She would rock her in the dead of night when she found it impossible to sleep and she would wear her all day long in a baby carrier so that she would be calmed by the body to body contact. She would soothe her with lullaby's and stroke her tiny back and soft hair. She would whisper sweet things in her ears and cover her with kisses. She would love the hurricane right out of that child and replace it with a sweet summer breeze because above all, she was her baby, and she loved her with a power mightier than the wind.