Consolation Without Comfort, Learning From the Inside Out

I know some of you will disagree when I say this, but I press the issue, anyway. The heart is a part of you; and, as far as that goes, your body. It pumps nothing but blood. It keeps you as much alive as a good portion of your other organs, if not, all.

So, then, when I see you associating that romantic feeling with something as physically imperative as the one piece of flesh keeping your entire organism pulsing and blushing in the face of a handsome form, I say, "No wonder that when that same pair of feet walks back out through the same doorway you allowed them to enter... well, no wonder you feel like dying... you feel like you can't go on!"

Maybe cutting it out would expel the pain that you cannot seem to explain any other way. Maybe bleeding yourself dry and taking away the literal fuel of the heart will tame your beast and everyone else's along with it.

No, my dear... the only thing you are responsible for, now, is keeping your body going as opposed to relying on somebody else to do it for you.

Some circle of love: meet, like, devote, love, annoy, fight, part, grieve... yes, that's the nutshell version. Perhaps embracing the idea that you really are only yourself and taking advantage of the detachment of being an organic living thing might clear some mixed and confusing feelings.

To truly believe in love, you must give way to some spiritual thought patterns and abandon the here and now... the right before your eyes (which may be a grave mistake). Love, as a thing, is the plans you make, your dreams, the will you take to convince yourself to become attached, the ignorance you take to justify abandoning every ounce of practicality you've worked so hard to attain. My only question is, "Why?"

To feel the emotions you are feeling is exactly that. To view love as the embodiment of all feelings is to resign it to the form of a noun, which it was never meant to be. Therein lies the mistake we all make. Things are there, meant to be taken for granted, though, for the most part, unintentionally. Love as a verb? Now that is understandable.