Pages of Affection.

I don't know what love is. I can't. I don't believe any of us can, really. There are too many facets to it for there to be one way of knowing. Like gems and rigid edge stones, every single individual's version of love that's experienced differs vastly. Like yours and mine. I believe both our loves are hard as obsidian, but with hints of something otherworldly and delicate in a way.

Here I go again with my 'dumb' sounding philosophies, right? Your opinionated, harsh honesty is probably your truest quality— and yes I just nicely called you mean. Remember telling me you couldn't love me romantically because of how I reacted to the world? I couldn't find the words at the time, because— well I was looking at it from a dumb philosophies standpoint. When I simplified it though, it was easy. It hurt.

Now I sit across from you, on our first date, having known you for years and loved you for one. Watching you watching me, watching you and writing these words. Wondering how they'll sound to you when you read them. Wondering how yours will sound to me. I'm afraid I'm revealing too much of myself in these pages, despite our promise and intention behind this terrifying exercise of trust, which I'm praying doesn't end with whatever the opposite of world shattering sex is, but like a happy medium with cuddling and some good sleep— I'm like...super tired fam. Anyway I kinda hope you're doing the same, but I doubt you're fearing as much as me. You're stronger than me.

The clatter of your fingers against keys is a reassuring sound though. One it reminds me of your presence when I look away, but also shows me you have much to say. Quick and as intentional as my own heart rate...actually you've been typing with minimal pause for like three minutes straight. How long have you been thinking about this? Shit— you're not sorta pissed at me right? No, never mind that. It's just nerves, I'm buggin'. You wouldn't be sitting so close to me if you were. I'll just focus on that. Yeah. It would only take a slight repositioning of my hand to brush your knee and...hold up.

Okay you smiled, not secretly pissed— whew. Although I can't tell if its the glass of the 'The Last Room, Tempranillo 2019' leaving your lips or my smooth and affectionate touch? I chose to believe the latter despite how much you love your wines. Ah...whoa. You just did that thing where your eyes look like they're holding some kinda secret when you stare. Like a super secret though that can only be felt—not told, but only if you allow it. Man the way you exist...it's so powerful to me. I honestly felt that before I ever felt I loved you.

It's like you're unanchored to anything or anyone, but simultaneously something of everything. I gotta be honest. I'll probably die if this is in fact the last room we share. Yes. Pun completely intended. Seriously though this is the last time I ever want to tell someone I love them as much as I love you. I'm over dramatic maybe, but it's only because of you. You're like the furthest thing from unentertaining.

Lets say it's possible to find someone else though, should you hate every one of these words and entice me to swan dive from the nearest precipice. I'd forever have the pain of remembrance and it would only ever dull, but not fade. And if you died first? Dude. Sadness galore. So yeah—leave me and death just seems like the next appropriate step for me. And to the age old adage "loving and losing" being better than never having— I completely disagree. Broken hearts are wack.

There are so many ways this can end and the heart always seems to convince the mind that the worst ones are the many in these cases. Sometimes the only. There was this philosopher once who believed we fall in love with people as some biological trait, just to have have kids and continue humanities existence. Then there was another who believed love to be the very contentment gained simply from holding someone or just being next to them. I favor the latter and pray for the ones who don't. Kids are loud...and cost a lot of money. Hm...you've actually kind of got that in common with them.

Most recently I discovered some new dumb philosophies though. One in particular was profound, but so simple, it seemed like it should've been obvious. So the modern world preaches that individualism is what humans should strive for, but in that perpetuation love becomes dangerous, because love is inherently the one becoming two. In love you risk codependence, put simply. I don't feel that with you. As I said you're unanchored.

You belong to nothing and no one, even when you give yourself. Therefore you've taught me to be the same. Sure— you walking out of my life could cripple and likely end my ability to want or ever seek love again, but I'll always love my self. If anything I could only love myself more. I'd have no choice.

The other part of the one becoming two was pretty fascinating; The philosopher states the act of loving as this passage and in this passage creation happens. A revolution of two people. You nor I can know what that creation means for our two. I'd like to believe it's something rare. Something that can drive two individuals, to write every word of there devotion in silence— whilst sitting directly in front of one another sipping expensive a— the best of Merlot. Are we crazy? Love is inherently, so I guess that's a yes.

The harsh truth however is "All that is true is rare and difficult.". And if I know nothing, I know we're both true. That said, I'm not going to give you my heart.

Instead I want to give you my hand and in it all my love, as free nourishment for your growth. All I want, is for you to want that.

I'm praying you extend the same. Should you... then I'll look forward to treading the passage side by side. Creating whatever wonder we are capable of. And if not then hello (metaphorical) precipice. I feel like this first date will be hard to top and definitely a potential catalyst for the therapy I should be considering, but I really can't wait to try (not therapy). Can you?