on love
Love. Love itself seems harmless enough at its core. It is like a cup of coffee that energizes the mind, or the slumber that leaves you with a light and well-rested mind, not the caffeine that deprives you of sleep, or leaves you in the morning with temples hurting. Do not love too much, with the same logic that too much of something will do you no good. Too much coffee could leave you wide awake until the sun returns to her post. Too much sleeping will leave you with limbs sore and mind aching. Too much of expectations and you’ll end up left with nothing, disappointed over your own thoughts. But, too much love? As if there is such a thing.
One may argue that love is not to be consumed the same way you consume coffee. A human’s heart does not throw away leftover love, unlike the body that can reject the rest of the caffeine in your system which it does not need at the end of the day. To say that there is such a thing—a profound, almost silly thing—such as loving too much, defies the idea of love itself. Love seems harmless enough.
I have never, not once in my life, loved in moderation. I am either void of it or I am overflowing with it. I love biblically to the point of silence. It need not be refined like coffee to give me a surge of life to persist through my day-to-day, it flows in my blood and grows with me as time passes me by. Every kind of love I have received from my family, friends, and my lover all comfort and stab at me and have been living inside of me and it grows—like a flower, like a parasite. It’s like a chain on my ankle that bruises me and keeps me close to the only thing i have ever come to know and find solace in.
I hope that, for all the love that I have given, none of them will ever go down the drain. I hope it all lingers inside everyone who has ever accepted it, even if they don’t realize it, because all I hope is that a love will still live even if it goes unnoticed. I hope that a love with no destination is still love even once the moon and stars shine their glory upon it. I hope every trinket of love i have ever given away goes back to me somehow. Not because i am entitled to it, but because they wanted to.
To love too much, I like to think it is more a blessing than it is a curse. And having an abundance of love should not feel so shameful. It is not a crime, never was to begin with. Thus, I hope you do not keep holding this grudge against yourself for having too much love inside of you. The pieces of love you give to others will never wilt.