"Late at night when all the world is sleeping,
I stay up and think of you..."
I'm a big Selena fan and I know so many of her songs, especially Dreaming of You. I can't feel more connected to this song than this moment right here. I have been dreaming of the love of my life, and I have waited for him what seems like almost a year. Sure, we've had rocky bumps this past year, but he should know "Como te necessito." I love this man with all my heart and it would only seem right that we end up together. Is it crazy? I don't know. I kind of think it might be. But that's what Love is, right? Crazy and unpredictable and consuming and worth it all. And I know, that someday, he will be worth it all. I am just waiting for him to forgive himself because, I think I have forgiven him. What he did against us doesn't even matter at this point because when it comes down to it, he's the only man I want to be with for the rest of my life. No more lies. No more pain. No more games.
I want to be with him. And I am finally going to listen to my heart. I just hope with all my life that his heart feels exactly the same.. How could it not, right? We have been through so much and regardless of the downs, we always come back to the ups, and love just glows brighter than the last time. I don't want to keep going back and forth, wading in the confusion of a maybe. I don't want the maybe. I don't want the no. I want the yes.
I am not asking to marry him, I am not asking to be together forever. I am just a girl standing in front of a boy, telling him that I love him more than anything I have ever come to know. If I could I would trade it all just to be with him. I would take back all these wonderful opportunities to travel the world just so that we could recapture the love that slipped through my hands. I have felt the earth move through my hands everytime my heart opened up to his. And he opened up back to me. That has to be love.
I am so nervous at this point, because I have taken a big leap over a steep edge, overlooking an abyss of a cliff. And I don't know where I am going to land, but I hope that his heart finally breaks my fall.
Who made love so complicated? Why does love come with some pain sometimes? I know that "Temporary pain leads to permanent happiness," but when will this pain be over? It seems that it is becoming permanent and I don't want to lose hope.
And then I think, maybe I am just afraid to move on. To see what else is out there. Although I have definitely been around the world, and to be honest, I can't seem to find anyone as good as him for me. Maybe I am just being impatient? Maybe I just have to wait a little longer? I feel like this year has been an eternity and I am tired of waiting around.
So many love songs that profess die-hard passion is what I want to sing to him. It may be crazy, and it may be sad, but at least I am not cynical. I still believe in love. And I still believe in him--in us...
But the big question at this point is:
Does he?
I have taken a chance to believe. And maybe, waiting isn't so bad. But I pray with every fibre of my being, that I won't be here waiting another year. And yet, Love is definitely worth waiting for.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
For Life
For all my life, I've only wanted one thing: True Love.
And this is not going to be sappy because I'm not talking about Prince Charming.
There are just so many different types of love out there: the love from another as a life partner, as a friend, as a best friend; love for yourself, for your family, for the world and strangers, for your work. Love, in other words, stands for so many other things: passion, compassion, commitment, determination, attachment, insistence, persistence, endurance, and most importantly, truth.
All my life, I have never known my beginnings. I have never met my biological father, and although I have been blessed by God with a loving step-father and I do have a great mother and the best, although craziest, little sister in the world, sometimes... I can't help but wonder how things would have been with my real father.
I have an understanding that things happen for a reason, and with that in mind, my mother tells me that my father was an atrocity of a man. And I believe her. The last image of my father was ripped away from my mother and I at my own doing. The memory is vivid in my mind: I was only four years old and my mother finally told me that the person I thought was my father was actually not. And with those confusing words uttered, she slipped from her dress pocket a small passport sized photo of my real father. His name is/was Frank and his last name was something like this: In-gen-jack. He's Polish and I don't know if that's spelled or hyphenated correctly. She showed me that picture, and I took it into my little hands, and I boldly tore it to pieces and threw the shreds away. I look at my mother's confused face and with compassion in my voice, I let her know that I loved her, and that we didn't need him. I hugged her, feeling her bosom rise softly as her cold tears fell on my golden hair.
That was the only picture we had of him. And now, because of me, it's gone. I do not regret my actions as a child, because, if you think about it, the innocence of a child--as I was in the moment--could not have been wrong. I knew, in that moment, that my mother was going to be all the parent I could ever want or need.
To this day, I still know nothing of that man that helped create me, and at moments, I would like to change that. But in moments like this, where I have a clear understanding of Love, especially the love of my family and of myself, I can say with confidence and with determination, that he means nothing to me. Just as I mean nothing to him.
But I want it to be clear: I am not complaining, because I know I have it good. I have been blessed more than words can even describe, and I know this is all because of the Hands of a more Perfect and Only Heavenly Father. And that is all the Parent anyone can really ever want or need. Someone to truly be there with you, through thick and thin, and will still love you whether you mess up or not.
Love, in all its imperfection, is what drives this world, what is at the core of all motivations and all dreams. And I know that one day, you and I will finally awake from our dreams and start living in the love that so graciously surrounds us all.
And this is not going to be sappy because I'm not talking about Prince Charming.
There are just so many different types of love out there: the love from another as a life partner, as a friend, as a best friend; love for yourself, for your family, for the world and strangers, for your work. Love, in other words, stands for so many other things: passion, compassion, commitment, determination, attachment, insistence, persistence, endurance, and most importantly, truth.
All my life, I have never known my beginnings. I have never met my biological father, and although I have been blessed by God with a loving step-father and I do have a great mother and the best, although craziest, little sister in the world, sometimes... I can't help but wonder how things would have been with my real father.
I have an understanding that things happen for a reason, and with that in mind, my mother tells me that my father was an atrocity of a man. And I believe her. The last image of my father was ripped away from my mother and I at my own doing. The memory is vivid in my mind: I was only four years old and my mother finally told me that the person I thought was my father was actually not. And with those confusing words uttered, she slipped from her dress pocket a small passport sized photo of my real father. His name is/was Frank and his last name was something like this: In-gen-jack. He's Polish and I don't know if that's spelled or hyphenated correctly. She showed me that picture, and I took it into my little hands, and I boldly tore it to pieces and threw the shreds away. I look at my mother's confused face and with compassion in my voice, I let her know that I loved her, and that we didn't need him. I hugged her, feeling her bosom rise softly as her cold tears fell on my golden hair.
That was the only picture we had of him. And now, because of me, it's gone. I do not regret my actions as a child, because, if you think about it, the innocence of a child--as I was in the moment--could not have been wrong. I knew, in that moment, that my mother was going to be all the parent I could ever want or need.
To this day, I still know nothing of that man that helped create me, and at moments, I would like to change that. But in moments like this, where I have a clear understanding of Love, especially the love of my family and of myself, I can say with confidence and with determination, that he means nothing to me. Just as I mean nothing to him.
But I want it to be clear: I am not complaining, because I know I have it good. I have been blessed more than words can even describe, and I know this is all because of the Hands of a more Perfect and Only Heavenly Father. And that is all the Parent anyone can really ever want or need. Someone to truly be there with you, through thick and thin, and will still love you whether you mess up or not.
Love, in all its imperfection, is what drives this world, what is at the core of all motivations and all dreams. And I know that one day, you and I will finally awake from our dreams and start living in the love that so graciously surrounds us all.
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