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Literature Text
To love, to be loved, is to go mad.
To feel the utmost searing pain of desire mixed with stonelike shame in that desire, because you know it will never happen and it would be a horrible thing to demand it.
To live forever in terror of soiling your love or having your love soiled, specters of futures narrowly avoided chasing you in your dreams until you bolt upright in your bed in a cold sweat.
To love, to be loved, is to drown.
To choke in your passion on half-formed words of wanting as you float through a sea of your mistakes.
To suffocate in the grasp of fear and dread the maybe-day when your lover tosses you aside to seek better.
To love, to be loved, is to hate.
To hate your fears, your worries, the demons of your own mind that keep you up at night.
To hate yourself, for how could you ever be worthy of the one you love?
To feel the utmost searing pain of desire mixed with stonelike shame in that desire, because you know it will never happen and it would be a horrible thing to demand it.
To live forever in terror of soiling your love or having your love soiled, specters of futures narrowly avoided chasing you in your dreams until you bolt upright in your bed in a cold sweat.
To love, to be loved, is to drown.
To choke in your passion on half-formed words of wanting as you float through a sea of your mistakes.
To suffocate in the grasp of fear and dread the maybe-day when your lover tosses you aside to seek better.
To love, to be loved, is to hate.
To hate your fears, your worries, the demons of your own mind that keep you up at night.
To hate yourself, for how could you ever be worthy of the one you love?
No matter how often I try to crystallize my feelings into words, the pain never lessons.
Comments11
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Very deep. I hope that one day those feeling of love will transcend all feelings so that it is truly unexplained.