Who Am I?
I know who I am, finally.
Must we first be emotionally fucked up to experience the profound?
Will nothing fix what human depravity has done to me?
Who Am I?
Just another human…
I cry…
I hurt…
I need…
I am one who knew nothing of love until it lit upon my heart.
I am lucky to have experienced something so profound and personal that it altered the very course of my life.
Are we all like me? Or am I like everyone else?
I have been minced, pulped, and whisked by my actions, ashamed more than any earthly expression can say, yet touched so delicately and deeply.
Are we all like me? Or am I like everyone else?
To what degree can we forgive what we can’t forget?
Are we driven by what we feel?
How pervasive are our emotions?
I have been graced by the love of one person, one heart, one spirit.
My need for her surpasses mere craving — it embraces starvation, the very draining of life from within me without her.
When I have hurt her, I have all but killed myself.
Who Am I?
I am one of millions who only have a need for one. Without that one, I am invisible, to the point of shadow on a cloudy day.
I don’t love to live; I live to love.
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