Am I falling in love?

(Originally Written March 22, 2009 in the Journal)

I feel the compulsive necessity to write at this point. You'll never read this (even if we are to be).  This is too private for anyone else. Only you my dearest Ashley can know my secrets.

Emotions stir in me I thought were too damaged to ever thrive again. I can't say I love you. I can't say anything so strong. My mind is weak but my heart is palpable. Who shall be its molder? I can be the clay yet I search for the artist. Ever searching, ever on.

I don't know why I write. I have no reason to, yet no reason not to. I move too quickly for my own good. She has no interest in me and I am unsure if I even have interest in her. She simply is - simply is beautiful.

Infatuation? Love? Interest? Love? Desire? LOVE? Lust? LOVE? Passion? LOVE?

Where are these words coming from?

You stir something in me. I wish you didn't but I long for you to stir deeper still. I have been asleep for months. You have awoken me, or have you? Is this just another delicious dream? A mere phantasm or fantasy? The world exists but reality only exists in my head. My reality hinges on my ability to discern real reality (that is existence in my head) and REALITY (that is existence outside of there). Which is more real? To me my dreams seem more real, but that also seems to be the problem. My narcissism rages and my pride fills up my chest. Humility has taught me some great wisdom at great cost, but I'm weak in the presence of kind eyes and a warm smile. I'm weak in your presence.

Infatuation? Love? Interest? Love? Desire? LOVE? Lust? LOVE? Passion? LOVE?

I write these words, do I know their meaning?

I write infatuation. The start of all relationships. Your eyes meet mine. Eye to eye and nose to nose. You turn left while I turn right? Lip to lip? Yes my joy, yes, a kiss. Love?

Interest, I scrawl on my wrist though it can be read in every line and wrinkle of my body. When infatuation can survive its infancy, though a treacherous time, it grows stronger and less awkward. A baby flails its limbs in wayward circles as it waddles across the room. So it is as infatuation swings left to right yet forward towards interest. Love?

Desire my love, my Ashley. Your pages are filled with this - you know it well! You see my hopes, my fears, my joys and my pains, understanding them better than I. Desire grows from interest - that state of heart that flutters at your beckoning. You see it in my eyes. At times I think I see it in yours, but always accompanied by uncertainty (a feeling that plagues me deeper than God himself can fathom). Yet desire stands as a deep-rooted tree in an open field - exposed to changing winds. Will it stand strong? Love only knows. Love is omniscient right? Love?

Lust, the sex of life, you know that act so forbidden, so bemoaned, so wrong, so lovely. This, one branch of that tree so easily can be swayed by the changing winds. If I had any control of my self I would cut this son of a bitch off. I'd prune it down, so many problems arise from this branch. I have thee yet I need you. Lust, a single branch that dominates the whole damn tree if you let it. At times I forget I am said tree, losing myself as only a branch. If I let it, as I have before this tree will die. I will die. Love will die. Lust will conquer, but love conquers all? Love never fails? Could this be love?

If lust is not checked love is choked.
If lust is not checked love is choked.

How many times can I write this? It matters not - I know it. My experience teaches my mind. I know this stage - I married it. She had infatuation, interest, desire and lust. No love. I was dropped for her lust of another (and four more that she told me about). My branch cut right out from her tree. I died until I realized I was a tree myself.

The lust has subsided has it not? You and I still exist. Are we for real? Am I for real? Is this reality or is it in my mind? Is it my mind or is it existence?

Love - love can't be written. It can only be experienced. It can only be lived. It must be reality & REALITY. It must be truth and TRUTH. Do I? Do I not? Am I experiencing this or not?