"Her arms aren't empty as she reaches for him, something invisible, untouchable, unknowable, fills them. Something vulnerable and opening, as she opens her very self to him, her very spirit for him to accept. He is worthy, she believes this with all of her heart, and so she is trusting, trusting enough to let him into her secret world where he could do so much damage, damage that was done once before, damage that has only just healed. Now she has only just recovered, and yet she opens herself again, what of this? Does she trust so in loves path, to put herself right in the middle of destructions? How so? Why? Because she loves, and love is deep, and love is trusting. Because love, the thing that broke her, was the thing that healed her. That which crushed her, has raised her up again. That which tore her in two, has made her whole, and she has no regrets."
I found this in a journal from early September. I'm not sure if I was making it up, or if I was talking about myself. Because at that time, I was getting ready to open myself to the idea of loving someone. Conscious or not, the possibility that this is about me, is quite high. Now that I am several months older and several experiences wiser, I see it a few degrees differently. Being open to love is a wonderful thing, but treating it with great care and even greater sincerity, is a better approach than childlike naivety. But as the piece says, I am whole - and I have no regrets.
Sorry for the meloncholy post, whoever may be reading. :]
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