“Am I ever going to fall in love again?” I asked my alter ego and he said, “Yes.”
“But how?” I asked. “My heart is racing mad and it means one of two things; it’s going to find what it craves, or it’s going to be shattered into billion starry pieces.”
“Your heart wants to love,” my alter ego said, “So let it love.”
It’s easier said than done, right? To just put your heart out there for mercy or for demolition. This love business, this societal strings are all too real. Love is real, too real. And society is closed, too closed. It’s either you fall in love or you don’t. It’s either 1 or 0.
And I feel so stringed up, so puppeteer-ed, so vulnerable. But I crave love. I want to love again. Deeper, riskier, madder, just give it to me. I want my heart to blow up in love, pumping dire beats of affection. I’ve given it out, to you all, now receive it with mercy.
Love could be do or die. Love could be fall or fall from the top of a building. Funny, but true. Well, this is the feeling. The thin line between love and dead.
Society… for all it’s realities and rules and hidden networks and causality. Reality is boring! LOL.
Okay, this one would have to quieten the heartbeats, so as to effectively steer his heart towards love. Well, it’s a test for now. The heart is free to beat as it sees fit. No condition is permanent, and my heart shall have its time of day.
To love. Cheers.