All that I hear lately is how crazy I am.
“You are too much, don’t you get tired of yourself?”
“You are relentless. Too intense. It is exhausting.”
“I am tired just listening to your stories.”
“How long are you going to go through this? It can’t be good for your health.”
What they don’t understand is how engrained this is in my very being. You call it crazy. I call it love. Sure it lays dormant at times and I am calm. I wear a mask of serenity. But once triggered, my flood gates open, and all the love I’ve barely managed to restrain comes gushing to the surface.
Do I get tired of myself? No.
Do you get tired of breathing? How can I get tired of my most basic need – LOVE?
It runs through every fiber of my being. If I don’t love, I don’t live. For me, what other purpose is there to life but to constantly burn with passion and pain?
The highs of love are more euphoric than anything I’ve experienced. The skies open and heaven is presented to me. Colors are more vivid than I have ever seen. Music is everywhere… I dance in ecstasy. Food turns into ambrosia. I float on clouds. Every sense is enhanced as I absorb all the riches of life. He is with me, and I am complete.
The lows are more excruciating than Hell itself. Days are long and never ending. I hear the clock tick as I wait for seconds to become minutes then hours. The pit of my stomach is on fire. My color spectrum narrows down to gray. I do not taste or smell. I yearn to be with my lover and every second apart is a lifetime of torment. I want physical pain to ease the agony within. I pray, plead, beg to be released of this curse.
I live in a dichotomy of emotions. Rapture and Agony. Will I give up on either? No. For without one, I could not have the other. My spectrum of emotions is much vaster than the norm. I feel so intensely.
You think it is scary to be the object of my desire? Oh honey, have no fear. Only the most coldest and heartless ones are drawn to my flame. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. The game must be played out as such. It requires two polar opposites. One void of any emotion, and the other full to the brim.
At first, the cold ones believe themselves to be head over heels for me. Of course they are. Even when I am trying my best to hold my emotions at bay, I exude high doses of love venom through every pore, and it is of the finest quality. So naturally they are drawn. They want to taste what they are completely empty of.
And so begins our dance… The love addict and the love avoidant tango.