thoughts on broken things at ten thirty three p.m. before bed. and for rachel.

you cannot stop love from loving, you can only remove the sun it grows by, the water it thrives from, and hope that when you come back to it, it will be dead. But waiting for it to die, when you have fostered it long and graciously and with joy and hope, is like smothering a living thing with a pillow, gritted teeth and weeping, waiting for the struggle to be over. But it takes so long. I cannot wait for it to sputter and give out, and yet I wholly hate the idea of loving it’s death, it seems cruel and against myself, like animals who eat their young. I think it is very much alike, actually. We were never made for any of this. For death and loss and severing. Logic and emotion were, I think, meant to be peaceable companions.

Logic was a refreshing blow to heartsickness for this past month, but that’s over now. I can’t punch it down anymore I simply have to let get me a bit before a keep going. And it hurts, its going to hurt and only God knows when it will end. But it will end, and God does know it. But all this taking heart has me weary. Everything is well, really, its just bearing it for a while. And I think tomorrow it will be different, and the next day too. But for tonight I have to recognize the awfulness of loss, of a pivotal person becoming a string of memories, of trying to purge love without forging bitterness, of losing an anthem of joy for a moment to listen more carefully for the low lament weaving these days together.

And just suddenly, the logic is back and I know I need this so drastically, because if I didn’t rid myself of the thing for which my life seemed to so easily yield to, I would never ever find my footing. And I need footing now, I need solid things beneath me, I need to plant seeds, have faith, learn and become. I need to know Love better than anything else, I need to let it make me whole, learn to receive it, give it, walk in it, and teach it. I need to be more me, before I seek out the character of someone else.
Guys aren’t even cute anymore anyway. I find contrasting colors more inspiring, specifically orange and blue.