The Breath of Acceptance

To see amid the thorns that perfect petal.
To hear through the screams that perfect note.

I think that perhaps I was living in the preface of a sordid novel. To see what would come, how it would unfold, and fear turning the page. And how the fear itself crippled me. I became so bitter and angst filled that the word love itself took on a whole new meaning. That word, it's sound, and by the blow of how it was delivered had the ability, in every right, to topple countries, destroy lives and set the mind ablaze. Though what should I fear? Losing my grip on my mind? Sharing the burden I have alone carried for so long? As the time passes, the burden increases and the same shoulders which bore this weight grow weaker and the shifting of life has waivered their hold. I long to rest, to shed the terror, pain, and anxiety which has been my second skin. The inability to reason when in the grip of an emotion has a staggering effect on my psyche. It frightens me and so much I fear. That being said... I'm happy. Shocking not only myself but those close to me. And in being happy, I feel guilt. A guilt placed long ago when in every fashion I was conditioned that everything comes at a price and love is no exception. What price am I willing to pay? Perhaps the price is loss, but of what? Losing the one thing that has been preserving me for so long. Apathy. Apathy has been what applies to most people in my life, save a few. Unconditional love is the myth, the proverbial unicorn. Why do I feel wrong for being happy and in so, growing more so by the day. To feel, to pine and long for someone's presence even if nothing was said. To sleep easier at night knowing they are there. The longing for a gesture or a simple "good morning". I've never been around someone that amazes me more with every passing day, that I adore with each word said and who can teach me to see things differently. No amount of poetry or dead french authors can teach me this. I enjoyed being alone but now I wonder how I survived.