I am crazy.
I have not changed in all my years.
I get obsessed, I over do, I run into the ground.
I cycle my emotions and scare even the hardiest. Only nut jobs want me. Only people who don’t actually care about me, or themselves, or anyone.
I was raised to chase love with a desperation that kills it on the vine.
I was raised to be told I mattered, and treated like going out of the way for me was too great a burden.
I expect no one to help me, no one to reach out to me, no one to offer me support or guidance or acceptance or caring or love.
I expect them to be selfish, and self absorbed, and self hating, and miserable, and use me for their own ends.
How then, can I ever find the kind of love I was born to?
I was born loving, giving, caring, glowing with acceptance of others. I was born to heal. But I was so broken I don’t know how to find that healing place, how to protect myself enough to give what I want to give, to hold myself sacred enough to keep me from harm.
My need is too intense. My desires too scattered. My self too rarified.
I desire to manifest that which I desire.
Love, of my heart, and my gifts, and my fears. Acceptance, of my nature and my spirit and my damage. Patience, to absorb my love in all its fury, to wait until I cycle back again, to hold me and be held.
I am emotion. I am love and fear. I am giving and needing. I am dancing and at rest. I am peaceful and tumultuous. I am strong and vulnerable. I am changeable and forever this unchanged. I am growing and yet same as I was born.
I can wish. I can attempt. I can expand. I can take in. I can meditate.
Yet, I am who I am.