I’ve been thinking alot about love recently. I have no notion as to why this unpredictable emotion suddenly floods my thoughts but it seems I have no choice but to accept this burden. Is it a burden? Maybe my heart is trying to tell me something, I’ve never been quite good at reading myself. Nevertheless, it is my duty both to myself and to the art I produce that I relate my thoughts on the matter while they plague me. The question I feel like I need to answer is simple yet difficult to do so. What is love to me?

Love to me is not a single concept, but a conjuction of many that join to form an overall idea and feeling inside me. Love is the tune of a piano tugging at my heart, the aroma of the sea breeze, the sinking of my feet in the sand, waiting for the sunrise. Love is the smoke that fills my lungs between words exchanged, the crowd around me vanishing, all but my muse.
Love is the warmth of her skin pressed on my own, my wits dedicated to making her smile, a sharing of glances, of lips, of bodies, of souls. It’s a tear wiped from a beautiful eye, sweat wiped from a weary brow, an embrace, a dance under the light of the moon and stars. Love is romantic, passionate, sensual, platonic. Maybe I want this badly, deep down I hunger for it perhaps.

The truth is however, that love terrifies me. I’ve braved countless dangers, external and internal, laughed in the face of these perils, yet the very thought of falling in love cuts my breath short and makes me shiver. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of falling in too deep to climb out, and losing my partner. Maybe I’m scared of opening myself up to someone completely and having them drive a blade through me. Maybe I’m just afraid of the word “no”. Or maybe, and hopefully, it’s the kind of fear that a human being feels before achieving something extraordinary, the adrenaline before climbing Everest, before blasting off to space, before playing the halftime at the SuperBowl, before telling that someone “I love you”.

Love haunts me, it makes me feel weak, frightened, despaired, but so help me God, I want it, I crave it, I need it. I’m ready, harrowing as it may be, to be truly naked before someone special, bare my soul to them. I’m ready to give someone as much love as I can muster, and ready to take a chance and receive some in return. I have no idea whether this is an unprecedented stream of honesty from my subconscious or a bout of pure insanity, perhaps both. I cannot say for certain, I can only detail what I desire. For better or worse, I want love, goddamnit I do. Only time will tell whether I’m worthy of it or not. I hope I am.