The Meaning of Love

One thing was always clear, I wanted to love. A certified, professional lover? Oh yes. That’s who I thought I was. All the fabric hearts, countless poems drawn from honest life, bloody fingers working myself to bone, articles of my daily devotion- so where has it gotten me? 

Never have I thought myself fearful. I'll do it for the plot, go down the road most novel, but curiosity kills the cat. And that's okay when it doesn't pan out because I never thought it would. Then start again, wiser, tougher. Now I'm looking at the real thing through the kaleidoscope of confusing life. My trials and errors melt into past. I feel it coming for me so steady I'm losing balance and asking myself, how the hell to be truly loved. 

Boy it's scary, the tenderness, the imperfection. I'm really full of courage and pride. But then, what's this? I'm afraid and can you understand that? Can you still love me? My identity shatters just posing the question. And after the shattering suddenly my tears, like a stunning undoing of my own customized armor. Underneath, wow I recognize it. A glimmer of something I know. It feels just like being a child. Misunderstood and lonely- but you're still there and it breaks me open. There I've been all along. 

My friend Stacie described Stickybaby as powerful vulnerability. I guess true love must be unguarded. I called my mom the other night to unload some of my humiliation onto her. She told me, "that's the name of the game." Now that's what I believe.

It's a beautiful and new challenge, just allowing. My advice today is when you've got to blurt out the truth because you simply can't hold it in anymore, do it. And if you must close your eyes because you don't want to know what happens next, that's alright. When you open them, your true friend will still be there, loving you more now. It's not what you expected but it's what you wished for. It's a miracle. It's real love.