PLOT SHOP

My love is a river

Writing :-)
I think it would be easier if I loved you less
To be at peace, not concerned with any hatred, fear, because somehow your presence makes me believe the world is only filled with purity.
Because my world is.
With you.
And I'm frightened by that.

Scared that the thread holding my soul together can be unraveled so easily.

But it makes me happy.
That I can experience such an emotion, that I can be cared for in such a way.
Comparison is the thief of joy.
I don't think I really understood what that meant until I found you.
And not just in the mundane aspect, 'I wish I had that body, those features' but actually ' I'll do this then it'll be okay, if I only act this way, say this, do this, don't be too hasty, too clingy, too forward, too approachable, too loving'
But that all I am

Love

A bundle of it
Built up over the years finally able to give it to someone.
It feels like I could die
Like I could tomorrow
It frightens me

I wish it could stop but I fear I would lose that love, the softness, the stillness.

I don't think you know how long I could stare into your eyes. If the wasn't for thoughts of  'am I being too much' I could stare all day.
I could pour buckets of love through the puddles that surround my eyes and transfer it to you.
I cry because the love comes pouring out.
Sitting here alone it makes me shrink
And I hate it
Yet I know it is good for me
Why is it so exhausting not being able to see the bigger picture when you can only view the world from your perspective.
The picture is always going to be small. Smaller than the full resolution.

I wish I could dive into your brain, but fear and the impossibility stop me.

I think it would kill me.

Because no matter what, I fear that I love you more than you love me.
I think that's my biggest fear.
Felt as a last option, a safe bet, it frustrates me that my brain likes to be mean, courses me through rivers and streams that kick up the dirt and debris from my subconscious and suddenly there's anxiety pitching a campsite near my heart.

Clutching into my chest with weighted palms, pulling me further as the water level rises up my body.
My ears under, I cannot hear you.
I can only thrash and scream.

Sneakily I do so without you knowing, more than likely.
A cool mask of stoniness keeps my river from floating away and tainting your own.

Because I know what is happening.
I can see the equation in my head, I know why I do things, why I feel a certain way, that triggers I have, but that's does not make the waves smaller.
Instead I  have a dingy lifeboat and have to hold on for dear life.

Like a sailor knowing the storm will pass, these emotions too will go and be replaced by new ones and those too will grow old and wither and will be replenished again.

All you can do is withstand the storm, and make sure you don't drench someone by mistake.

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I want to write a book but I don't know what for, who for, I think for now it'll just be this. See if it leads to anything.