Alright, actual content.
If politics and paranoia are part and parcel to your experience of love, how do you know what is the right thing to do? I just reach out with my feelings and blindly grope for the shape of the truth, and I’m always at least probably wrong, but sometimes I’m right and it’s glorious.
I’m talking about action, in love. Initiating the experience, allowing it to be, allowing someone else to expect things from me. It’s not easy the way it was when I was a teenager. That trips me up; if it isn’t easy, is it wrong?
But I can’t deny that this challenging version of love is new and amazing, dark and strong. It’s burrowed into the strangest parts of me and threatens to support my weak parts, like scaffolding. It’s scaffolding holding up scaffolding, and we’re eyeing the ground between us. What can we build?
Nothing like falling in love to make traipsing across the country sting a little.