the dance of the ink riddled fingers

madness

Posted in heroes of mine, pin the tail on the love, thought spills by enisea on 08/04/2013

It doesn’t take much.
Not much at all.

Just a little trust, and a little hope, a little smile and a shared thought. Then a little more trust, a little more hope; bigger smiles and developing understandings. They all began to make sense over 474 days. Turns out, I’d begun to see my highest hopes in another person.  As though everything I’d hoped for was hidden in one man.

And no, he wasn’t perfect, nor was he Jesus.

Therefore I couldn’t possibly want him, or rely on him, or give my life to him. Could I?

...mm, maybe, I could.

Maybe I could trust a man who wasn’t Jesus.  Maybe this idealist could be completely enamoured by one rugged and imperfect man.

He thought/thinks differently.  I can’t actually remember when it happened but he became  more and more interesting.  He fed my curiousity with various dreams, ideologies and questions.  He kept me intrigued with the world, being my personalised broadcaster of current and historic knowledge.  I learned of everything I had never seemed interested in, nor care about, nor knew about – until he began to introduce me to a wider world.  I often still maintain disinterest, but now by choice, not ignorance.

He treats me as though I am the most beautiful person in the world, and I still don’t really know how to apply make-up.  But he prefers it that way.  He makes me laugh, he makes me feel like I’m the sensible one frequently because he’ll have no problem being ridiculous.  He’d sometimes be defensive, few times irritable and often boyish.  Occasionally vulnerable and seriously charming.  He doesn’t always hold the door open for me, but sometimes he will.  Sometimes he’d pick me up and hang me upside down.  And to be honest, I can’t really remember what it was that drew me to him.

It’s madness.  Madness to be in love.  Madness to want almost pathetically just to be in the company of this other person. To learn more about them, study them all the time, give them more than you’d give yourself.  It’s madness being so thrilled by the simple things that he’d do, the minute things he might say and how his touch could bring instant safety.  There aren’t hands in the world warmer than his.  And there isn’t facial hair in the world that keeps me as entertained as his does.  It’s funny because he can’t exactly sing, but I love it most when he does.  The times I’ve felt the strongest are when I’ve tried my best to keep him up.  Nevertheless, have I ever felt so protected!  I’ve never had such great conversations as I’ve had with him.  Never stretched my imagination as far as I have with him.  I’ve never been so open to life, love, learning and truth (correction).  I’ve never admired somebody this close before.  Never felt so sure as I do now.

Never been this mad. This madness is so exhilarating one might easily mistake it for nonsensibility.  But it is very sensible to be in love.  In a world where we are taught to love ourselves, the only way to rebel against such flawed systems is to love another.

They say I’m young.  They say I’ll learn about how hard it can be committing life with somebody else.  That once we’re bound by covenant and surname that everything unglorious rears it’s head.  Well, mind the inaccurate quoting, but it seems very much inferred. And maybe they’re right.  Maybe my 30, 40 or 50 year old self will read this again and laugh at my 23 year old naivety.  But then again, maybe not.  Maybe my 60 year old self will read this, smirk and whisper “that was when our love was small”.

This is us.  This is madness.

engagement is amazing

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