No I don’t want to hide things from him but I can’t get myself do it. How can I tell him that the scars he has seen are nothing. That some people burn away in their own unquenchable flame. That life’s unjust unjustly. That I regret nothing I have done and nothing I have not but what I do regret is the fact that I am not ordinary enough. That the way the world looks at the world is nothing I can relate to. That there are people like me who have been turned and twisted in ways that our wounds are beyond repair. How can I expect him to understand me when I myself can’t! Even when I know I ruin everything I touch, I have yearned for something that is so perfect in it’s tenderness. I want to tell him how I feel so strongly about everything. That being passionate is my disease. That the only way I can do something is by loving it and loving only makes one sad and vulnerable. It’s like opening a wound and letting the wind decide it’s fate. But he won’t understand. He might think it’s a poetic fantasy or a depressed expression. How can I blame him for this judgement? What the world is yet to know is that things are written because someone, somewhere at some point has felt it. That just because you can’t feel it, doesn’t mean it can’t be felt.
I want to run away and never look back. But till when can I runaway from myself? Is there really no way out of the maze of the mind?
I know he can deal with it. I know he can endure things that aren’t in my control and get us through but does he deserve this misery? This state of vulnerability where uncertainty is the only thing certain. Does he not deserve to be loved by someone who is simpler and less messed up?
And then is the most important question. Can someone love him more than I do? Can love deal with this? Is love enough? Only time will tell.