The art of loving, and being loved.
Two of the most life altering strands of life, which normally, braid together and make something whole: true love. But, for me, these stories lie parallel to each other.
The boy, whom will never let me go. Beautiful in a much overt sense, he embodies the very ideology of masculinity. He is charming, yet quaint. Exciting, yet reliable. So whimsically enthralling and captivating, yet leaves me somewhat empty.
Then there’s the boy whom I will never let go. So easily overlooked by others, yet so profoundly enchanting to me. He is so poignant, and so different from any other boy I know; a boy with depth and personality that would shake mountains. Being in his presence is both electrocuting and exhilarating. But we hold something I cannot bear to lose: a friendship which I hold so dearly and lovingly the world itself would crumble without his presence.
It would be so much easier to be loved, and learn to love, rather than love and lose.
Standing at the cross roads, I have no idea where to tread: the path to contentment, or to fulfillment? The guaranteed or the questioned?
Truth is, I know the answer. I just can’t bear to accept it.