If my love is not enough to light your way through the dark, then let me be a conduit for the love of the Gods to shine along your way. I live in love, live for love, and love always.
Every part of me hurts. Hurts out of love. I do not understand why a few people I love reward me with rejection. Yet still I love them the most. I feel that they need it the most. Perhaps more than I do. The process of loving the people-who-hurt-me-for-loving-them is a hero-ing. Puts me through fire. I’m so tense, my swooning and melting hardens into steel, and my bending down to the floor in heavy cries of agony are the banshee songs of pre-mourning.
I cannot hold onto the pain alone and I do not protest. I do not weep in the dark for want of attention, or out of loneliness, nor cry for release of this life, no, not nothing as immature as that. My tears stream out of how unnecessary the rejection is — I have too much love and I find it so valuable, I must share it, give it unfaltering, like a holy mission, forgiving, wanting to pour it over everyone because I do not wish anyone else to feel the pain I do — yet this love I have is not received. How can it be too much?
Why aren’t you taking it? Why can’t you see the good I’m giving? Why do you turn your back on me when I never will?
When your love is absent, I love ever the stronger, feel it the keener, and hear the voices of the Gods even louder… their light shines into me in my most painful darkness.
Yet I long to give it up to you. Just so you know what constant love is. Why it’s worth all pain, all sacrifice, and all the joy that can be come from it.
I may not believe in romance, but I believe in the holiness of friendship. A life spent in devotion to friends means more than ever a romantic dalliance ever did in my past. I gave up on the dreams of marriage and motherhood long ago. What I live for is friendship. I mean it with all my heart. Like religion. I want to be a priestess of friendship.