I know love. I have smelled it, had it smack me in the ass, tasted it, heard love whisper in my ear, and seen it in the eyes of another. When it showed up I knew exactly what it was. Of course I ran like hell.
Love seems so dangerous to me. At least real love does. The one that found me does. Is this how it is for everyone? It means opening up and laying bare all of one's secrets. I didn't even get to do that on my own schedule...the person that cares for me can see all of my mess. Right through all of my cover up and well rehearsed lines. Dammit!
The challenge is that I messed up. I freaked out. Not only did I take off like a fat kid for a Krispy Kreme, I decided to try my luck elsewhere. Not a good idea. Dangerous of an entirely different kind.
I am sad. I want my love. It may be unconventional. That's okay, when we are together nothing else matters, and I am certain that I am the only one he has eyes for.
Now the trick is to get healthy. I want to be the best I can be. Even if my love isn't coming back when I figure my next move out. (Oh he is fabulous. And he digs me!)
I'm excited. Life is going to be good. Even if its not what I am expecting.
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