Love is on par with the disabled world we live today!

“I love you, I do —
you have my word.
You have all my words.” By Lang Leav.

It’s always said that your first love isn’t the person who you went out with, it’s the one you never did. The one that broke your heart and broke it real hard.

My first love has been for what I know – 21 years ago, even before I could understand what happens near my loins when I see a cute boy and want to be near him. It has been true from the very beginning when I started to pay extra close attention (read: stalk, in a less harmful creepy way) to who he was, what he wore, where he went, who his friends were or who he was talking to. I haven’t been able to completely erase his face from my mind as the ultimate man who has held my attention for the longest span.

When I do think of what life would be like with another human being from the opposite sex, I picture him. You know, the one I’ve built, sculpted and nurtured in my head, heart and mind. He says all the right words that makes me blush even though they weren’t said at all. Pulls on all the right moves, knows how to kiss and touch me right, wears that favourite shirt and perfume I like and has a killer smile, oh that smile that I fall for every time. Hmmmm…. sigh! What never was, has been everything and more to me.

21 years that I have imagined him into life, I love him with reckless abandon.

I would see other men, lead them into my bed on lonely nights, bite into their shoulders that I knew couldn’t hold me securely like he could. I know that they couldn’t even remotely mirror what he stirred within my soul, and made me feel more lonely than ever. I could be in a group orgy and have the best orgasms but still long for his shoulders to hold me on days that felt like the end of existence. I undermined my heart feeling love and most days I would find that to be true. That smile I pictured, shed light on my self-doubt in a way that made me glow in pride, like I was the leading lady lover in a play by Shakespeare or the verse of Rumi. I knew true love because of this right person. Even if it meant that you dint fall right back in love with me.

I mean, you didn’t even know all these years that I love you.

I spoke to you for the first time just a couple of years ago and your words were so loud on a message that it felt like you were right next to me, in the skin of the mannequin I had sculpted in my mind palace. Lingering in my thoughts when I doubt your existence or question the very core of it.

I said my goodbye to your physical living a long long time ago yet my eyes never left from the place. I can recreate that very scene like its happening right now. That’s how strongly I captured that moment. The very moment that make my words still run dry when I know I can never experience that feeling again or even assure myself falsely that it will be with someone else. That is how you taught me how to love and not expect to even see, know or feel. Love wasn’t a physical need or entity in my life, it was just catching a glimpse of you or hearing someone speak your name. Days that the news channels and internet screamed your name, a sense of pride that I felt was a victory I celebrated like my own. Days passed, months and years; yet the feeling still feel so embedded in my heart. That was love. Couldn’t give it a holier than thou name.

Love isn’t what it is now. No one tries anymore. I don’t either.

Love today is on par with the disabled world we live in today, where love comes in 3 online apps, 4 selfies filter modes and a send button. We don’t learn how to love at all. No one teaches, no one knows. Just choose whatever is convenient at that moment, take off your clothes and get inside each other not into each other.

Why dint I ever tell you my friends ask. What if I dint know how to be loved by you? What if you didn’t know how to love me? What if I dint know how to teach you to love me like you taught me how to love? What if?

We build walls around our hearts so high with the same ignorance, arrogance and hate that Donald Trump wants to, assuming “protection” for the United States of America. At least, we still protest to ones being built on land.

Love is disabled, unable to decipher what it means to love and to be loved.

It’s at a click of a button – DISABLE and that’s how we disable our social media profiles to “enable our minds.”

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