I remember how love feels. How it pounds through your chest hurting your ribs. When you gasp for breath and you aren’t even sure why. When your skin tingles and goose bumps coat the topmost layer and a warm feeling spreads throughout your stomach and you begin to feel queasy yet happy in a strange sort of way. When they catch your eye and you melt into a pool of emotion, indescribable and pure with no ulterior motives. When lips curl into a half smile and it means everything in the world and a lightly whispered “Hi” has such an impact to you that you remember it forever after. When in moments of togetherness you lose track of time and it feels as endless and deep as the dark blue seas of exotic lands where you had never ventured before and from whence you wish never to depart.
It is short and sweet and to the point making your endorphins explode and your dopamine secrete and your life so much better and tolerable, even in the middle of war or any other type of strife caused by humankind. It makes you forget how awful people can be and is the best blinding agent in the world, enabling someone to look past the flaws of an individual and placing them on a pedestal from which they could do the worst action in the world and yet you would still cherish them forever and always. It burns quick like a match and goes out just as fast, unless you find a way to keep the flame burning eternal. It is passion at its best more potent than anger and soothing at the same time. It makes us feel alive and in the moment distracting us from all else that goes on in the world, helping us to forget the suffering and to cope.
I also remember how lost love feels, ripped away at the seemingly most inopportune times for reasons that you wish you could have predicted and perhaps have prevented but you realize you could not; each interaction etched into your cerebrum never to leave and to remind you on those cold nights that even after all of this time that you are still capable of feeling those silly things called human emotions; it forces you to yearn for it, to crave it and to think of the times in past, a sort of sickly nostalgia that is wonderful yet awful; that queasy feeling in your stomach is there for all the wrong reasons and it makes you want to vomit just so you can get it out of your system and leave you alone; yet it will not leave it will always linger and the scars on your heart will stay and drag on only coming forth when scraped the wrong way and the pain comes rushing forth again from the wound, it leaves us emotionally hemophilic.
This too makes us feel alive and feeling alive is something many of us are afraid to do. Afraid to love for fear of being too frail to survive being rent asunder at the hands of one whose opinion matters most. It is this we must get past and realize that the risk of pain is worth the reward of joy received. Letting a single terrible experience to rule over you indefinitely or even the idea of such an occurrence is a fate worse than death. For while you still may be alive you will never truly live.
One must take the good with the bad for as humans we are ruled by two masters, pleasure and pain. One controls the whip and the other feeds us sweets. It depends on the day and the die that each casts as to how our lives will go. If negative we must still remain positive for it could eventually swing the other way. If positive, remain humble and realize that the die cast tomorrow may not give you the satisfaction you have grown used to. Above all rely not on just these two masters, rely upon your fellow man to help build an existence worth living.
