It’s pretty easy to tell what state of being I was in when I wrote this further admission that I am clinically unstable.  I’ve always taken pleasure in picking apart things and I haven’t done this emotion yet.  Got home from a wonderful day with my boyfriend feeling wretched, plucked out my black book, which is as close to a diary in secrecy and insight as I have ever had, and just started writing.  This is the typed version.  No editing took place between.  Enjoy!

~*~To Love & To Be Loved~*~

Anxiety is a little scratchy thing, an itchy sensation that snakes about your sides and grinds between your shoulder blades.  Despair is a cold fist embedded in your chest, stifling your breathing and trying to expand, working against will and hope as you try to contain and control it.

The loss of love, light and hope is a sensation like a thousand cold scratchy things scuttling beneath your skin and every instinct and fibre of your being makes you want to scratch and claw until the skin is broken and the pain and tainted blood replaces it.  Just scratch and claw and grind and scrape and laugh as you drown it all out through your own control and will power.

To love is to have salvation from these hellish things.  All your wickedness and failings are forgiven and you are accepted mind, body and soul.  To be loved is to have achieved the instinctual goal of being safe and secure, for the one who loves you above all others will wish you no harm.

To love another is to have a hope; a beacon of light shining on the horizon in a void of darkness and despair.  To love another is to be given a new strength, the want to resist the temptation to claw at the little cold scratchy things.  To love is to be content in their arms and not fear their judgement despite fearing parts of yourself, for the one who loves you embraces the tainted blood and spirit as well as the purity and the need for protecting.

To say love is freedom is to lie.  Love chains you.  Without love we would have the freedom that abandonment grants, where the blackness consumes and we are free to let it, even embrace it.  Without love we have the freedom to destroy ourselves, but with it we are prevented from doing so.  The one who loves you will restrain you from surrendering to morbid temptations in a selfish bid to keep you safe.  And as we love them back, despite the scratching and the coldness we let them.  If their contentment comes through our preservation then so be it. 

But love doesn’t stop the little cold scratchy things from moving, or illuminate every point of blackness.  It doesn’t forgive every sin and it can even cause pain when we wrench against our preserving bindings in moments of insanity and desperation.  But it is a light on the horizon that we feel blessed to have and know that we would be lost without.

~*~*~*~

Make of that what you will, but be kind and leave a comment.