The Fog

     I think the root of my confusion revolves around love.  My ability to do it.  My awakening to it.  I'm still squinting, however.  I can't quite see it but I know something's there.  Finally. Or do I even want to see it? Am I even capable?  Maybe all I'll ever see is just that, an imagined notion that will always stay imagined, never realized, yet always bright.  For the first time in my life I'm thinking, genuinely thinking of turning myself inwards.  Of focusing all my Self into the words I WRITE rather than the facial expressions I make or the words I articulate. To be honest I feel like I'm lying.  If I feel a certain way, why shouldn't my entire being exude it?  Well, something I'm just beginning to learn: the ultimate expression of one's self is in the keeping of certain truths hidden from public view.  Smiling on the outside yet feeling a storm on the in.  Not something I could ever relate to in literature until now. I finally get why they always bothered to do something like that.  To love someone is to keep them safely from you. But that seems wrong.  But so does constantly vomiting your life-'s problems on that person.  So what do I do?

     Three people love me.
      Tarek.  Dillon. Kirk.
     They each mean something different.  Not to me, but as Love.  They love differently.  Obviously. Isn't the uniqueness of everyone a concept we learn when we're in kindergarten? (Why is it that it takes so long for it to become entangled with other aspects of life? Do I learn things too slowly? I think I'm one of the last to figure this out.) But I don't know what to do with these Loves.  I don't know if I should reciprocate them.  And how? How do I return love? I've never loved anyone before and known it.  When I did love someone, I didn't know what it was. It's gone now, though.  Can I even trust myself to love someone? What if I screw it up in the beginning? Or the middle? Why do I talk like it's some sort of method I need to follow, anyway? Like one day I'll get the instruction manual beamed into my conscious mind via some blissfully happy couple sitting across from me on park bench in London?  Because that's really what I feel like: like it'll all come to me overnight, that I'll just suddenly know how to love, how to be loved.  Before I knew it was me, I used to blame my misunderstanding on the Other.  That THEY were the ones who didn't know what love is hence their apparent love for me.  Because "loving Karlyn" is a logical pitfal.  It's a negative imaginary number.  It simply doesn't occur in any realm, physical or meta.  How could it?  The love I imagined they were describing was a nigh-sentient force, one that ensnares both people, surprising them both but effecting them at the same time. 'Suddenly' you're "in love". Whatever that means.  Then you look deeply into each other's eyes and really know the person.  And all the parts that you don't, you seem to bypass in the Logic Wagon and instead take the shuddering, creaking overpass of Living in the Moment and then turn into the cave known as Trusting in the Unknown.  HA. Literally: like that's ever going to happen.

     Love isn't like this for me anymore.  The problem is it hasn't turned into anything different, though.  Not yet.  It's still incomprehensible to me, I just now know what it isn't.

At least I'm staying true to my natural method of Understanding Through Deduction of What Isn't.  That's....helpful. Again....HA.