pull me down

I struggle with logic, sometimes. I struggle with being reasonable. In my dealings with people, I strive to be calm and levelheaded (this, despite appearances, is not my default). It is important not to shut down or shut off and talk. Even when the world is spinning, even when my heart is trying to kill itself by bashing into my ribcage, and the words are all coming out wrong.

And then comes the cold, creeping knowledge that there are certain that even I can’t fix. That sometimes, maybe love isn’t enough. That maybe I’m not enough. That there are choices that are already made, before I even realize there is a question.

I am all heart. All of it. Down to the marrow of my bones, pulsing through every atom. I don’t love easily, but I love to the very ends of everything I am. I cannot turn it off. I don’t know – not really – how anyone possibly can. You can only push feelings aside for so long. They bubble up. They resurrect. They appear and insert themselves into thoughts and moments.

Here is what I know. Some feelings are so strong that they demand certain things. You have to confront them, deal with them, and come to terms with them. Shoving them under a rug will not work. It solves nothing, accomplishes nothing, and bottling them up almost always makes them worse. Like shaking a can of soda and popping the top off: it will probably explode. And so will you.

I think, in life, there are always three choices: accept, fight, or run. I’ve never been a runner, even when shit gets hard. I accept things when I can, even when it’s difficult. And if my heart is involved, fighting is a foregone conclusion. Except, sometimes, the question of how to fight arises. Because it isn’t enough to just start swinging. You have to know what you’re fighting. You have to know that you’re not just shadowboxing yourself. Everyone is always fighting their own battles. Some are situational. Some are internal. Every struggle is valid. But so is every feeling.

I woke up this morning with one single thing on my mind. I will go to bed tonight thinking of the same. Tomorrow will not be any different. I may be fragile, but I am not made of glass. I may be strong, but I am not made of walls. I may be brave, but I am not without fear.

I am doing the best I can, even if I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know this: things should be given freely, or they should not be given at all. You don’t ask for a heart. You don’t ask for love. But it happens, anyway, mostly when you aren’t looking.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” ~Neil Gaimn

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