24.10.07

i am always love

i went to say sorry to the trees today. sorry that they were dying, again, for another year. and that i don't blame them, because i die every year, too. i also came to tell them that i might not see them again for awhile, that i would miss them. but i cannot sit underneath my tree when there is snow fighting me for the spot. snow will always win.

i went to cry, too, because there is nowhere here to cry. there is always someone. there is always the chance of someone walking in and having to explain yourself, having to answer the "what's wrong" and that awkward shoulder pat. i wouldn't know how to answer, and i don't want anyone to pat my shoulder. it turns out that the woods aren't even a good place to cry. i want to collapse in my bed in tears; in tears because there is nowhere to cry. i can't cry here because there are always people. i went home and couldn't cry because there were too many people. i can't be alone, i can't be alone to be sad.

when i went to say i was sorry, i fell into a thought, and i don't know what i think about it.
it happened with any sort of contemplation.

"the world is so beautiful, and i am so sad."

it escaped from my lips, a pale whisper, lost into the leaves before i could think.

is it really like that?

is the world really so beautiful, and am i really so sad?

you know, it is a very hard thing to be in love with the world. it sounds like such a beautiful thing, and people always wish they are. and i am. but the problem with being in love with the world is that the world is a terrible, terrible heartbreaker. it's that tragic sort of unrequited love when you know that you're never going to get it back in exactly the same way you are pouring yourself out. i am getting tired. i am getting so tired of this love. but i can't stop it. it's not something i can just control. i am in love with everything and everyone, and everything and everyone cannot love me back. and yet i go on.

i want just one.
i want just one to finally love me back in the same pure, undiluted, constant way.
and yet everyone is too different, and nothing will ever be solid. nothing will ever balance in the way that i try, so desperately, to enact. and i will keep living with my unrequited love for the world.

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