I am tired of seeing relationships around me fail, break and fall apart, turn so tough that in the end there is no love left. I don’t want to fall in love just so that all of it can be slowly drawn out of me.
You see, it is something like this. Imagine you were a stamp collector. And you go to these stormy deserts and frozen mountains, you visit kingdoms from lost time. You speak to these old men in post-offices, men with warts and eyebrows as thick as grasslands. You do all of this only so that you can add to your prized collection each day. And one day, your box of stamps is beautifully full, it is so whole that you couldn’t possibly add another feather to it. Would you ever turn this box upside down?
What if I tell you you had to. Or someone else would.
I don’t want to go on collecting stamps all my life only so that someone can pick them up and send them on loveless postcards to mailboxes where they will never be read, never be discovered. I don’t want to love until I am empty.