There is more to life than what we see. I suppose this is true for us as well. There is more to life and more to us than what appears on the surface level.
There are more features beneath the surface, yet it seems common that people notice the surface levels without daring or bothering to dig deeper than the flesh of someone’s skin.
This is how you know when someone cares.
You can see this because they notice small things. Maybe they notice the unspoken things, which is often the case because when someone cares, they can tell that the words, “I’m fine,” are not true.
When someone cares for you, they care to know enough about you to understand, and even if they don’t understand, at least they try. They know your triggers or your soft spots.
Someone who cares knows when something hurts you. But more, and whether the possibility to cure you is there or not, someone who cares will look to soften the blow or, at minimum, they’ll let you know that you’re not alone.
I understand the interactions between the dependent and the codependent. I understand there are people who live to give and people who live to take.
I know there are good people. I know there are those who look to take advantage. And there are those who have been hurt or wounded. More to the point, there are those who have been lied to and those who perpetrate those lies, just so they can survive and eat a free meal.
I know there are thieves in the world. And there are victims too; however, there are people who volunteer to be hurt or robbed of their faith. There are those who apply for the position of someone’s personal doormat and, too, there are those among us who are unaware of their worth, so they assume they are of a lower value. Thus, they settle for less and accept the trades in their usual life.
And love?
I mean real love?
I know that this is an elastic term because love is relative and so is true love.
I know that my version of this is relative to me the same as your version is relative to you.
But this is my take—
Real love is born and nurtured. Real love is no different from what Einstein said about energy, which is energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It can only change forms.
I agree.
Real love is energy, and thus, this can never be destroyed.
Real love never vanishes or goes away.
No, this is the truth in rare form.
Real love is always hanging and always expanding, much like the universe and same as its mysteries; true love does not always come with a definitive answer—and sure, we are our theories and our beliefs. But again, much like the infinite span of the stars and the planets, the universe is ever reaching and never ending. Yo me, this is love, universally.
I have always been afraid to “be seen” as in to be actually seen and known and to have all of my faults or flaws be exposed without the possibility of being hidden or concealed.
I am so many things.
I am more than the person you see.
I am a boy who was hurt and a child with too many misunderstandings. I have challenges that range from my days that go back beyond my adult life.
I have fears and secrets that I have spent decades trying to mask or hide. And, I have certain fears and intimidations. I have a tried belief system and biased assumptions.
I have history the same as everyone else does. I have a past. I have quiet voices that whisper louder than screams in my head. I call them the voice of my insecurity, or more namely, I call this all parts of me.
It is not a proud thing for me to reveal this. It is far from attractive or sexy. But I have to be clear, and I have to be honest. I have to be vulnerable here and humble too, or modest as ever because to free myself, I have to be myself because nothing more is as enslaving as living as someone else.
I don’t know what it feels like for you when you sink beneath the water after you plunge into the deep. I don’t know what the air smells like outside of your house right now, —and if I did, I have no guarantees that we would smell or see the same things.
I know that it’s easy to smile when all goes well. And the same could be said about love too.
It’s easy to love someone when life is good, and the weather is kind, and the fortunate life is everywhere we turn.
But life comes with both adversity and diversity. We all have our moments, and we all have a past and the dark secrets which we try to mask and hide.
This is true.
It’s easy to love all the beautiful things. And it’s easy to hate the ugly truths. But real love has nothing to do with beauty or ugliness.
Real love is true regardless of the presence of danger, hate, or despite the ugliness, I know that the light of true love can burn through any darkness known to man.
I don’t want to be ugly.
“You’re not ugly.”
I don’t want you to see that side of me.
“I see everything.”
Do you see my dark side?
“I do”
Do you see the scared side?
“Yes.”
Do you see my past?
“I see everything.”
But how?
“Because I love you.”
How can you see all of these things and still love me?
“Because this is what real love is.”
“Love isn’t always easy.”
“Love is not about everything beautiful because the truth about real love is that the ugliness of anything else doesn’t matter.”
“Love is like air, water, food and shelter.
We need them all, if we are to survive.
I will never fall out of love with you.
I promise.
“Let’s not worry about tomorrow yet, okay?”
Okay then.
For now, let’s look at the sky outside, which only happens in the early parts of November.
The sky is blue with some white trails of clouds that stretch out like a straight line. The air is crisp and cool. The leaves are changing and the New York breeze is kind enough to let us know that the weather is going to blow colder soon.
So, bundle up.
Dress warm, and whenever possible, hold the one you love as close as you can — for love is a living, breathing part of us. Therefore, like any other living and breathing thing, love cannot survive in a vacuum.
So, let’s step outside, you and me.
So we can breathe.
The Written Addiction 