When I was young I fought against fairytale expectations and romantic movie expositions. I was determined to experience, but knew that I was unlike the heroines. I had heart, and I had backbone, but I lacked the silver tongue and the perfectly manicured talons to entrap.
Later, I took pleasure and comfort in Dostoevsky and the promise of his words--Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth. So I bathed in pain, in sadness, and let it form me--letting it sink its roots into me. I cultivated my greatness in the lack of what I had. And after that I never took a single wet eye for granted, and naturally I was sought out by those that would instruct further than Fyodor could.
One taught me that I could be loved. Two taught me to never fall in love with someone just because they show you love. Three showed me that there are conditions to affection. Four ignored me. Five only cared for me. Six hated me. Seven and Eight should have taken Two's advice. And Nine reminded me to make sure I had others around me to remind myself of who I really was, because losing yourself is the surest way to lose everything else around you.
Love is a dangerous angel, and trust is its gilded winged counterpart.
I now love with a very deep heart, but trust with a large intelligence--knowing that trust can bind or blind, and no one can ever see through the layers of heart and hurt to predict whether the one you trust can trust themselves.
The best we can do is have a cautious, well-natured hope for the future, and a penchant for both lucky endings and new beginnings.
Later, I took pleasure and comfort in Dostoevsky and the promise of his words--Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth. So I bathed in pain, in sadness, and let it form me--letting it sink its roots into me. I cultivated my greatness in the lack of what I had. And after that I never took a single wet eye for granted, and naturally I was sought out by those that would instruct further than Fyodor could.
One taught me that I could be loved. Two taught me to never fall in love with someone just because they show you love. Three showed me that there are conditions to affection. Four ignored me. Five only cared for me. Six hated me. Seven and Eight should have taken Two's advice. And Nine reminded me to make sure I had others around me to remind myself of who I really was, because losing yourself is the surest way to lose everything else around you.
Love is a dangerous angel, and trust is its gilded winged counterpart.
I now love with a very deep heart, but trust with a large intelligence--knowing that trust can bind or blind, and no one can ever see through the layers of heart and hurt to predict whether the one you trust can trust themselves.
The best we can do is have a cautious, well-natured hope for the future, and a penchant for both lucky endings and new beginnings.
1 comment:
lovely post, dear. xo
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