I look at what I came up with from last night to the wee hours of the morning: one thousand three hundred seventy-four words drained from a heart that basically wants to say one thing: it is in love. I’ve reread it for the umpteenth time and each time (you don’t know how relieved I am to say) my cheeks burn a little less and I’m more able to finish an entire paragraph without stopping somewhere to bury my face on the pillow, curl up in a fetal position, and twitch like crazy.
Yeah, this thing I wrote last night sounds crazy, alright. Crazy in love. I know I tend to overdo things whenever I profess romantic love for another to myself (I haven’t gotten to professing love to another yet) but isn’t it suppose to be like that when you’re in love and just bursting to proclaim it (even if it’s just to yourself and, well, the Listening Universe?) I don’t know, but it seems so. It feels so. I guess what one doesn’t know one just feels somehow.
Somehow, I’m a little clear-headed today, which is a good thing as I really have to finish a great number of things for this weekend’s Self-Transformation course which I will be helping in, as co-facilitator. Today, there’s not going to be any of the cerebral existential lamentations and the grave get-by mechanisms that my previous loves have made me come to know and do so well so many times, in so many ways. None of that suppression and forced oblivion that hardly make me and things better. Today, I’m going to be aware that I’m in love, put all that energy to good use, get down to business, and focus.
I’m a step to winging it.
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