When a woman is in love, she can’t pretend otherwise. Passion can’t be restrained. Her feelings swell until they consume her. He dominates her thoughts day and night, until she is carried away by the tide of passion. The feelings come before the words. I want to scribble everywhere. I can’t get my thoughts in order. He fills me up like a balloon threatening to float away at a moment’s notice.
Or pop. He could destroy me. I am a balloon and he is the needle. One prick, and I explode, shatter into a million pieces. You would think being destroyed is a bad thing, but it’s not. Not this way. It is strength. Not mine. It is all this man before you. He could destroy you, and I like that feeling. A woman wants nothing more than to think she is strong, until shown otherwise. It is humbling. Not every man can bring you to your knees. This cannot be done by even half of them. Only by a few. So far, he is the only one.
My cup runneth over.
This is ecstasy. Not the pill. There are no drugs here; he is the drug. Ecstasy can feel like a trance-like state, or it can wake you up. It makes your whole body come alive. There is nothing you want more. Actually you don’t need more. That’s the thing. Anyone can give you more. Not anyone can give you enough. I am insatiable. He satiates me. I still want more. It’s madness! There is nothing to end this cycle. The feelings build up inside of me. Energy needs an outlet. This kind is explosive.
I can’t control myself. I am hot and bothered. I pace back and forth. I am woken up in the middle of the night by the force of these feelings. They crush me. I am not weak, they are strong. The feelings pervade my dreams. He haunts my dreams. I see him everywhere. I am never alone. I look at him the way someone looks through a kaleidoscope. There are so many facets to admire. There is complexity and depth. This is not true of everyone.
There are some people who suck the life right out of you. You can’t bear to be near them for longer than you have to. There are some people who are like magnets. You can’t help but be pulled towards them. You don’t realize the energy it takes to be around them until you’re exhausted. And you do get exhausted, in a good way. But you leave so you can restore your energy and come back for more, because even when it’s enough, you’re never done. Not really.
It’s the definition of an addiction. It’s not just the high. It’s the cycle. Live and repeat. You are flying, you don’t want to come down. It is pure pleasure, never diminished by time. You return again and again.
I return again and again. I could never repeat the cycle with someone else. It is always him. It has only always been him. My experience is not singular. Very few bother looking for it. I’ve discovered it for myself. I’ve found the rest of me in someone else. I am whole. Everyone is looking for something in life. Some of us don’t know what we are looking for. The rest don’t bother to look. They are complacent. He never gets old for me. He is always something new. The only new thing under the sun.
Falling in love and being in love are two very distinct ideas. They commingle. Falling is the impression of something you can’t control, while being in love is something you have to choose to do or be, not on a daily basis, but minute-for-minute. There is an intensity, a certain degree of emotion that goes into this state of mind. Because that’s what it is. It’s not a choice; it’s the result of making a choice, and then you find yourself in this uncontrollable state.
Love is moderation, but passion has its place. Nobody talks about passion enough. Nobody writes about passion outside of a motivational speech designed to inspire someone, or a lot of someone, elses. I am not setting out to inspire you. I have been inspired.
Better yet, I’ve been awakened. Women do this, come into some sort of awakening. With the right sort of man, they do. A woman who hasn’t been awakened hasn’t read the right books or met the right man. Women awaken and it is men who awaken them.
I am not a man. I don’t know anything about what it is they do. What I do know is that I am coming into my own, and that is because there is a man. There is something in him that can never be in me on my own. I am a woman. We are separate, different, and distinct. There is something to be said for a man who can make a woman submit. A woman in the midst of today’s feminist rhetoric does not submit.
I do not submit. I hold my own. He makes me weak. No, he makes me vulnerable. Or maybe neither of those things. I still haven’t exactly worked all of this out. Women are supposed to be more given to emotion. Not me. This is not a brag. It’s an insecurity. To be a woman in the presence of a man, my God. Make no mistake, it is a man’s world. This man takes up mine.
I don’t know what it is exactly that I’ve awakened to. I’ve not been sleeping these last however many years (a lady never gives her age). There is no reason to go into the sexual awakening that has accompanied this passion. It wouldn’t be proper. He takes up all of me. It is all one to me now. What exactly have I awakened to?
Maybe that the minutes of my life have meant nothing until now. Maybe that the idea of an independent woman I’ve held so closely my whole life no longer means anything to me anymore. Maybe that two is better than one. Maybe that I am not an island.
Maybe. I don’t know. He does this to me. Makes me uncertain. Maybe it’s an awakening to the realization that there is never a more to life, that you can eventually reach a state of this is it. I don’t mean that as a fatalist. I mean that as someone who has become satisfied after running in the rat race of life too long.
As a woman, nonetheless.
It doesn’t matter if I don’t have all the answers. He probably does. He won’t tell me. This is what keeps things interesting. You don’t want to make it too easy. The fact remains: I’ve been awakened, and I’ve not walked through life as some unintelligent fool thus far. Three years ago, you would never have caught me admitting that a woman is better off with a man. Never. Times have changed. I’ve not changed. But I’m different. I see things differently.
I’ve awakened to something. Let me tell you that I have acted the fool in front of this man for the sake of nothing. For the sake of him. For the sake of it all. I have not been awakened to some kind of realization that I’ve some untapped potential. I don’t know what potential I would speak of. I have failed at almost every endeavor I’ve embarked upon. Probably because I’m a woman.
That’s only half serious. But that’s the whole point. I have failed at every turn in life in spite of trying my damnedest to do the best I could. And none of that matters anymore, because here I am. Pouring my heart out as if I’m in some kind of therapy group, which I’ve been a part of in the past. I’ve met Jesus Christ himself in one of them.
None of that matters. What I’ve been awakened to is what really matters. For me, that’s him. That’s all that matters. I am well-educated, and I’ve been awakened backwards into a silly girl in love like I am still in high school (I never went.). I have worked all my life to be something and I failed.
Here I am. This doesn’t feel like failure to me. I feel blessed and blissed out of my mind. All the time. He does this to me. I thought it would go away. It hasn’t. Not for months. Years, actually, if I’m honest. I’ve tried to avoid it. I can’t. I’m in love. This is what happens. Nothing else matters.
I’ve awakened. Maybe to nothing except him, I don’t know. Do I need more than that? He has taken up my whole life, and I give him mine.