Love is the first word I think of when you cross my mind. It’s a simple word that explodes into a cloud of colors that mist elegantly through the atmosphere like the Northern Lights. The purples and blues that drift through the air, wrapping their cool arms around one another; forever holding in a cool embrace and dancing in the starlit sky above. Sending hope and magic into my heart, when I felt that all other avenues were lost.
The yellows and oranges that give off a warmth so comforting that even the heat of the sun doesn’t compare…
When you look in the mirror, what do you see?
For me, I see a thirty year old man with brown eyes, curly brown hair and a smile that has been said to light up a room; but that’s not all I see. I see a man who is strong and courageous, someone who is willing to put up a fight when it’s right. I also see a man who can say with a booming voice, full of volume and depth, that I am a proud gay man.
I think back at the men and women who came before me.
I live in my head and wonder around aimlessly, trying to find each piece of an upturned puzzle. Each time I find a piece, I realize that it doesn’t fit; I’m always missing that special one.
It can be such a struggle.
I’ve come to term with the demons and the devils that live in my head; the ones that sleep with me at night. We have an unspoken understanding that I’m imperfect and will forever make mistakes. I think that the more I dwell on it, the more that I try and search for those little puzzle pieces, the…
It’s overwhelming, suffocating and crippling. I wonder who I can trust with my laundry and who would run away from the darkness that they discover?
Would it be worth my own sanity to share my thorns with someone I desired to be close too? It’s a gamble of the soul. Do I remain in the shadows or come out into the light?
Sometimes I don’t think that I can ever open up my heart to another person without being cast out like a leper. I’ve been told that in order for someone to love me, I first have to love…
Is it the butterflies in my stomach, the unhinged passion of holding another person? Is it waking up and dreaming about them?
I haven’t really figured it all out. Being that I’m twenty-nine, I’ve had my hardships when it came to love. What I’ve learned…
Love is hard.
It’s not waking up to the person next to you, greeting them with butterfly kisses or a perfect cookie cutter life.
Love is a challenge.
It’s a puppet match between two people who are being pulled by different threads. Love is drawn with strings and yarn, both coarse and smooth.
Author of The Evergreen Saga, LGBTQ advicator, reader and small town grown.