I am love.

I am love. 

It is a ludicrous thing to say but I believe it. All this romantic platonic love I have for people makes me feel good. It satisfies me the way a single relationship cannot. I am not afraid to express my affections to the people close to me. I want to experience moments with different people that I meet randomly and by chance. Making every meet count and them seeing me as an experience. Making them feel something new,giving them something to think about, seeing them let go and be open with me,letting them realize what and who they can be: mad. 

In my musing

I have been down, I have been rather quiet at times, I have cried with the reason being that I feel alone, I have been stressed, I have been calm, I have been patient and I have loved. I have been rather down it feels like sinking into a deep hole and you cannot get a hold of the sides. I have never felt that way before and I hated it. I usually do not like talking about what I am feeling just to avoid the response I might get like, “Do you think you might be exaggerating?”or “I think what you are feeling is something that will just pass.” or “Aahh you will be fine,don’t worry.” I do not want to be downplayed. I am feeling them aren’t I? So here goes.

Do you sometimes feel like you are the one who is overtly sensitive to some matters and maybe if you can just shut up there won’t be misunderstandings? When you think you are the cool, calm and collected person yet look like a clingy, stubborn kitten who has not been fed two meals. That kitten still wants to be petted. I think I have a point there. Where do all this feelings come from? Why do we have feelings in the first place, to make us human? I don’t want them. My insecurities make me cower, I have given them power to ruin my life and make me feel vulnerable in situations that I shouldn’t be. Are you judging me now that I acted blindly because of how I felt? I am already hard on myself. I want to be comfortable with myself, I swear I was. I am angry. I am angry I am smiling hiding the fact that I am not myself. If you ask me what I want I’d probably say I don’t know. I am not broken. I do not want to be fixed.