I’ve been through so much with you, more than any other person and I still want you as much as I did the first time I laid eyes on you. Every time I see you, it’s like meeting you for the first time all over again. It’s the butterflies in the stomach, the not knowing what to say, but out of all things you’ve taught me, there’s still one thing I don’t know. I don’t know how to fall out of love with you. I don’t know how to let go and as I stand there looking at you, I wonder if there will ever be a day when I get over your smile, when will I let go of the hugs you gave me that I continue to feel. A day when I forget the words you said to me, forget what you meant to me or forgot how much I love you. But -no matter what you did to me or whatever happens to us, I know I could get over, let go or forget you. When you care about something as much as I do you, being apart is the hardest thing to get used to. I thought I’d handle it just fine and that I’d be happy just to keep you on my mind. But it isn’t always that easy. Sometimes, one thing that would please me the most is simply seeing you. I knew that I’d miss you, I just didn’t know I’d miss you as much as I do. I want to share my tears with you. I want to share my love with you. I want to share my happiness with you. I want to share my strength with you, my smiles, my frowns, my joy, my loss, my good days, my bad days, the rain, the sunshine, hot cocoa, and the snowflakes. I want to share my life with you.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, Pablo Neruda
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
Where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
Did you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren’t you anymore? If you were suddenly gone, how would your world react? Whatever you imagined is wrong. There;s nothing romantic about death. Grief is like the Ocean. It’s deep and Dark and bigger than all of us. And pain is like a thief in the night. Quiet. Persistent. Unfair. Diminished by time and faith and love.
I wish it was me you’re thinking when you wrote that
Perhaps not to be is to be without your being,
without your going, that cuts noon light
like a blue flower, without your passing
later through fog and stones, without the torch you lift in your hand
that others may not see as golden,
that perhaps no one believed blossomed
the glowing origin of the rose,
without, in the end, your being, your coming
suddenly, inspiringly, to know my life,
blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze:
and it follows that I am, because you are:
it follows from ‘you are’, that I am, and we:
and, because of love, you will, I will,
We will, come to be.
Regret comes in all shapes and sizes. Some are small, like when we do a bad thing for a good reason. Some are bigger, like when we let down a friend. Some of us escape the pangs of regret by making the right choice. Some of us have little time for regret because we’re looking forward to the future. Sometimes we have to fight to come to terms with the past. And sometimes we bury our regret by promising to change our ways. But our biggest regrets are not for the things we did, but for the things we didn’t do. Things we didn’t say, that could have saved someone we care about, especially when we can see the dark storm that’s headed their way.
Sometimes pain becomes such a huge part of your life that you expect it to always be there, because you can’t remember a time in your life when it wasn’t. But then one day you feel something else, something that feels wrong, only because it’s so unfamiliar. And in that moment you realize you’re happy.