The Truth Is...

It's me again.

I sit here thinking of you,

the you that was,

the you that should be,

the you I miss

Sometimes, I doubt that you ever existed; the only trace of your presence?weak memories... the type that fade almost as quickly as you've seemed to.

The truth is...

I miss you.

You were so young, so pleasant, so admirable… the type of child most parents ask God for, the type they long for

Eventually, the coldness of the world breached onto your breasts, crept through your epidermal layers, caressed the surface of your heart; forcibly plunging deeper and deeper… until you too became frozen,

static

unrecognizable- to me.

-

The world hasn't noticed the switch. To them, you are the same K, your smile reaches out and envelops any and everyone around you, you still believe in love,

you love

You love purposefully and wholeheartedly

you love uncontrollably and dangerously

you love beyond reason, without reason

-

But inside you are full

Full of damage

Full of regret

Full of sadness

And full of guilt

…

… guilt for feeling full of anything that isn't ‘full of love'

You feel guilt because you want to feel yourself the way you see yourself

Often I wonder if it's possible to be full of love and full of intention, and empty and deprived at the same time.

Can one be full of love? Does love have limits?

-

What do we say then to the one who has decided to give up hope of belonging and spends their time longing after love and finding remains of lust and distrust?

Do we hold them close and whisper reassurance?

Do we take the easy way out and blame them for their conditions?

Do we preach ‘love’ and ignore realistic repercussions?

Of this I do not know, but I do know, and have seen, the effects of undiluted and true love.

True love comes in many forms. It comes when a child smiles innocently, as you promise them the world. It comes when you feel butterflies for a minute of pure words spoken. It even comes as you feel you heart get broken.

True love doesn't always mean reciprocal love, and thats where many get it twisted. True love can be exercised against oneself, and the lack of found in return… you see the problem is often that we pretend to love ourselves. We do things in the name of self love… when really there is no love at all. I wonder how it feels to truly love myself… after all this time of longing I have truly forgotten.

I so desperately want to feel this feeling again

To find me again

The me that was.

(Listen while you read; even if that means reading over, and over again.)