Light of my Life


The night has a thousand eyes,

The day but one;

Yet the light of the bright world dies

With the dying Sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,

And the heart but one;

Yet the light of a whole life dies

When its love is done.

Francis W. Bourdillon

I don’t want the light of my life to die.

It won’t be the first, and it won’t be the last. But I am fearful that this love will never return.

My heart is heavy.

Perhaps this is what I wanted all along, perhaps G wasn’t the one for me, and no matter how things turned out, this is what’s best. I could message her, but I told her I would give her space, and for both our benefit, I will.

Dear G,

I just think back to the past six months to how you must have felt at various times, the uncertainty, the loneliness, the feelings of rejection. Every time you poured your heart out to me, and I would read your words, and my heart held back. I think of all the times my hardened heart pained you. I know every moment, I know every instance. I know because I restrained myself from feeling and reciprocating. I see us as the same person, with the same love, the same struggles, the same insecurities. I see me in you. I always have, and that is what drew me to you, another spirit like my own, difficult and anxious and driven and full of love and wonder for the world. I felt us go back and forth with our affections. When I was close, you pushed me away. When you were close, I pushed you away. We’re birds of the same feather.

Anyone who is close to me knows how difficult it is to get close. Everything needs to be on my terms to protect myself. It’s not a conscious thing. It’s something I notice after the impulse is there. Giving into this impulse is easiest. Holding back, and keeping myself open in hard. 

In my heart I know that I loved you more than anyone I have ever loved before. It was a pure love, because I allowed myself to open even when it hurt. Everyone that knows me knows that I loved and adored you. I hated the vulnerability, because I suffered for it. 

We suffer for the things we love. 

We must choose our sufferings. 

I wanted to end things with you. I wanted to push you out and keep you out. I didn’t want to hurt. But when there was no hurt, there was no love, and I was alone, I was numb. 

I allowed myself to fall in love with you, because there was something between us that persisted beyond the initial romance and lust. Even though you hurt me, I wanted to love you. 

I am a difficult person. Very difficult. Impossibly difficult. I am complex. I am insensitive. I am hard. I am cold. I can be ruthless. 

But on the inside I am a boy, who wants to be accepted no matter how bad he is, who wants to be loved no matter what he does. On the inside my heart and mind gush with love and affection for anyone who will accept me. I am a dreamer who fantasizes about ideals and visions of feeling and a future of beauty. I romance with the world, I long for daring adventure, I want to be a hero to serves and saves those in need. I’m a little boy who gets lost in thoughts and feelings, and when I wake all I want is a loving heart to embrace me, and tell me they’ve been waiting for me to return, that they’ve missed me, that I mean something to someone. 

I’ve always loved you. Yes I have regrets. I have lessons. 

Throughout our relationship I wondered if I could find this love with someone, but without the hurt. I realized slowly, perhaps too slowly, that there is no love without sufferings. Those we love we also hate, because of the hurt we feel by them, whether they meant it or not. The ego protects us. It kills hope, it kills desire, it draws boundaries, it keeps things out and you in. It finds reasons to hate, reasons to detach. It records all the wrongs of others as a reminder to not trust and not open up. The ego is powerful for good and bad.

I don’t know what’s happening with us G.

I know you don’t either. 

I know this hasn’t been easy for either of us. You have needs, I have needs. Whether we meet each other’s needs is a decision to love, in spite of ourselves. 

I can’t erase the pain, as much as I want to. I can’t erase the past.

But I can decide to stop looking back.

I don’t know what will happen with us. Neither of us do. 

I shouldn’t be writing you now. But this is what’s on my heart. I can protect myself, and bury it in my journal, or I can communicate it with you.

I think of all the times you tried reaching out to me, to tell me you needed me. I’m sorry I was cold. My boundaries were high. 

What do I want? I don’t want perfect. You are not perfect. I am not perfect. I cannot expect that in anyone. I am good enough, and you are good enough. I know you’re someone I could live with forever. I know that even though you’re difficult and needy and impatient and emotional, that I love you anyway. I love you in spite of those things. 

The most vulnerable thing I can admit is that I don’t want to lose you, that I feel that I need you. 

Admitting that and meaning it makes me shake all over. What if her feelings will never be the same? What if her love is just an ember?

I want to fuel our ember and making a passionate raging fire of love again. 

So you met someone else. This thought is devastating, because of the fear that my love will fall on deaf ears, that it will mean nothing to you.

But life goes on.

Hope causes us suffering. Love is hope.

The best thing I can do is give space. It is difficult, because I want security. I want reassurances. Just like you do. 

But there are no reassurances in life. We live by faith.

I am terrified of thinking of you with someone else, pained that your heart may move for another, crushed when I think of a physical romance with anyone but me. 

This is life. I will endure. Life will go on. The pain will rise and the pain will fall. And new a season will begin in time. The leaves of change will turn one morning and the world will be different, and there will be new hopes and new loves. 

What do I want? I want a family with someone I can count on. Is that you? I want it to be you. Though, everything is uncertain now. Things may be different. We may carry new hurts, and decide we don’t want to put them away, and use them to guard ourselves even more.

Or we can put it all down, and begin again new, with hope and faith and a renewed commitment to what is true, what will last, our love and devotion through thick and thin.

At this point I must let go and have faith. I must refrain from reaching out. I must gaze forward and ahead toward beautiful visions, and work towards them. I must forgive and be kind, I must embrace the pain and let go of the hurt, and say goodbye to this enemy of love.

With love, M

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