NOTHING IS GOING TO CHANGE MY WORLD

Across the universe

WORDS ARE FLOWING OUT LIKE ENDLESS RAIN INTO A PAPER CUP

Another post about love, being loved, self respect, and prioritizing what you want.

When I die I know I’ll go to heaven because I’ve spent all my time in love.

SOMETIMES THE HAMMER, SOMETIMES THE NAIL

I find myself meditating on my choices more and more with intense clarity. I muster all my energy to be intentional, to be thoughtful, and to be honest, so brutally honest—with myself, and with others. I respect you, but I respect me more and that’s not to say I didn’t respect myself before, but I’ve reorganized myself in the forgotten months of the past. This was never for you; it was for me. Me, me, me—all me. Because I’m self-indulgent, I’m selfish, I’m self-serving. Yet I’m restrained, I’m considerate, and I’m selfless. In the pursuit of love and passion, I’ll take the backseat—my emotions contained and chained—to focus on you, for us. These are my choices, for me. Can you handle that?

I find myself savoring the sweetness of the 24 hours spent with you, even as I’m already thinking of the next 24. How do you feel? Do you know how I feel? What do you need? The answer sometimes lies within the question, I suppose—you aren’t me. You’re you, organized differently than I. I don’t know how you feel or what you need, but I’m on a relentless pursuit to find out. I need to know. I need it. Can you handle that?

Sometimes, questions don’t need answers—or even have them. But you’ll need to get comfortable answering mine because I’ll always have a few. They’ll roll off my tongue, one after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another, after another.

Delicate yet direct. Almost like how our tongues roll off one another in the twilight of the morning, as we roll around in bed, intertwined with the sheets—whispering, staring, struggling to get closer. I crave one thing only: you. Can you handle that?

Here lie my choices, my decisions, my self respect. And I’ve decided. I’ve chosen—you.

We’re now in a place that is all becoming instead of done, your presence has given me a reprieve. But can you handle me being brave enough to kiss you goodbye and actually leave?

WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME TOMORROW?

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