How far do we have to go to find out that we’ve gone too far and lost our way?
I ask this because above all things, I wonder why we fight with the ones we love the most.
Why?
Why argue?
There are better ways for us to spend our time.
Why not see things for the way they are?
Or for example, what would it look like to realize that this is life? This is the moment?
This moment is far more precious than either of us realize.
You and I will only have one shot at this and rest assured, you and I can do one of two things.
We can make this work or we can fight and we can argue. We can bitch and we can complain. We can destroy ourselves with insults and lowblows that hit us so hard that we lose our balance.
Or we can look around this place. We can live, love, laugh, and learn.
We can dance a little dance and sing a little song.
And dig it, I know that life is not always going to agree. I know that plans fall through. I know that I will do and say the wrong because, of course, I’m really good at doing or saying the wrong things.
But who is so perfect? Who is so great?
Who walks the world without mistakes?
No one is so great or so perfect.
Except for you, of course.
At least, to me that is.
Why fight when we can do things, like be between the sheets or and have our bodies entwine and tangle the rest of a long afternoon with the pleasures that only you and I can create
If this is love, then please . . .
let this be love.
let this be my only love.
let this be my last first kiss and my first of many more interactions that never stop, never break, and never pause because life is like a heartbeat; and mine is beating heavy at the moment.
At the same time, I wonder about the features and the details of what it means to truly love someone.
I know what love is.
I know that my past and my sins and the traumas and the battles have done.
I know all about my scars and what they say.
But this does not mean I do not know what love is.
This does not mean that I do not understand beauty.
I do.
I understand beauty. I know what beauty looks like. I know what beauty feels like because I have outlined her curves and memorized the feel of her skin. In fact, I dream about the sound of her voice.
I know that love is not about all the great things. Love is not about someone’s perfectness.
But they are perfect.
At least my love is perfect.
However, I believe that even imperfections are beautiful. Even the bad stuff or the hard stuff or the morning breath, the sick days, or the days when all has gone to shit, and still, somehow, the love of your life is still more beautiful than anyone else in the world.
You see imperfections.
I see love.
You see damage.
I see the reasons I love you.
You see ugly things.
And I see you as the only person who somehow makes sense to me.
Still, I wonder why we fight or argue or bicker when, in fact, there is no one else in the world who I would rather spend time with.
Life is moving too fast.
Time is passing me by.
And, so . . .
From now on, I think it makes sense to realize the difference between wasted time and the value of a minute between you and I.
I love you
The Written Addiction 