“Oh why, oh why do they teach us Shakespeare
When we’re only 16, with no idea, what it all means
Oh Romeo, oh Romeo he thinks it’s a love thing
All masks and kisses from the balcony
It’s deeper than that though, it’s a fuckin’ tragedy”
Shakespeare by Fink
I allowed myself to get wrapped up, although I have continued to promised myself I’d quit. I’ve made this promise before. I’ve broken this promise in the past. I experienced that unfortunate sadness that comes along with opening up, and although it may only be brief it reminds me how horrible that feeling is. It’s astonishing how powerful the heart can be. The brain is mighty, but in my case, the heart typically wins.
I have this vision of charging forward through life, strong, and alone. That’s not in a depressing sense but ideally I’d be okay with that. My venture is unbelievably strong when I’m completely on my own. My vision is clear, concise, and I am making all moves necessary to achieve it. Until the clouds roll in. The brain fog starts to seep up from the heart just as someone begins to claim it.
I promised myself the strength to consider yours truly first, always. The difference now is, I actually do. Even when I am teetering hundreds of feet above what I feel could be a blissful fall, I stagger. The idea of expressing and not receiving is deceiving. And finding the meaning behind another souls words can be devastating. Also, avoided. Should we know instinctively when to jump? Will our conscience with equal balance of heart and mind give us the push when it’s time to dive?
Here I am contemplating, debating, and appreciating all in the same thought the idea of what it would be like to really have my someone. The real question is in all of this: How willing am I to get hurt?