I can't remember a time when I wasn't having a lurid love affair with life. I am either higher than I have ever imagined, or I am wanting to end my time with my mistress for the last time. When it is good, my god is it goooood. But when it's bad, watch out.
Like a bad relationship with another person, we have our good times, and our bad times. I romanticize how beautiful life can be, and I exaggerate how much of a b*#@h life can be as well. When life is good, I want to take it all in, I want to roll in the sheets with her until early in the morning.
But when my mind gets too comfortable for its own good, it turns on itself. Memories surface, fears grow, and my heart races. In those moments I can not stand the sight of my paramour a moment longer. I can not bare the weight of life upon my chest and I wish that each breath is my last. When we are at odds, when the taste of her lips upon my mouth is bitter, I spat upon man. I crave the burning of the world. I feel terrible for being one of the ones that made it back. I feel awful for being one of the ones that couldn't endure. Morose, doesn't touch how I feel when life and I are in a lovers quarrel. The world is not even dark when I hate life, it is a dull boring gray. My distaste for life is the only color I see. It is the only beauty I can see in an ocean of gray.
Like a bad relationship with another person, we have our good times, and our bad times. I romanticize how beautiful life can be, and I exaggerate how much of a b*#@h life can be as well. When life is good, I want to take it all in, I want to roll in the sheets with her until early in the morning.
But when my mind gets too comfortable for its own good, it turns on itself. Memories surface, fears grow, and my heart races. In those moments I can not stand the sight of my paramour a moment longer. I can not bare the weight of life upon my chest and I wish that each breath is my last. When we are at odds, when the taste of her lips upon my mouth is bitter, I spat upon man. I crave the burning of the world. I feel terrible for being one of the ones that made it back. I feel awful for being one of the ones that couldn't endure. Morose, doesn't touch how I feel when life and I are in a lovers quarrel. The world is not even dark when I hate life, it is a dull boring gray. My distaste for life is the only color I see. It is the only beauty I can see in an ocean of gray.
When life is good my heart swells for those I see in pain, and I reach out to them asking to help them. Asking to be of service to my fellow man, so that together we can share in the bliss that is life. Some days, I find myself just breathing, just focusing on the simple act of inhaling. And I realize that, that feeling is peace. Pure bliss. I want to share that with others when I am in the throes of passion with my mistress. There is no pill, no medication that cause give you the love for life. You have to find it on your own. And find it I do, and Find it I shall, again and again. Life my be my fickle mistress, she may be my ill-tempered lover, but I am addicted to the drug that is life.
Medication may keep the darkness at bay, but only we can choose to love life. Only we can choose to seize the day, and make life happen. Going to work everyday, sitting in traffic, sleeping in on the weekends, watching 19 hours of Netflix IS NOT LIVING (I know that last one hurt, I do loves me some flix of the net lol). None of that is seizing life, grabbing her by the shoulders and breathing her in with ever fiber of your being.
Life may have shown you her darker side, and now you have been granted the scars of PTSD. But that doesn't mean you have to run. Charge forward, and make your life your own. Show life that you are as much in love with her, as much as you have been hurt by life.
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