don't believe in fear, don't believe in pain
Still waiting on Bryan's response to my latest email.
alchemi and I are doing a meme.
(Yes, I know I still haven't finished my last round of comments from the last meme I did. I'm working on it!)
Words he gave me, to which I am supposed to say what they mean to me:
1. Love.
2. Friendship.
3. Suicide.
4. Health.
5. Family.
First off, Love.
Love is saying you're sorry because you really mean it. Love is cleaning up after someone else's mess because you know they like it when the sink is clean. Love is hemming your daughter's pants, love is knitting a scarf for your mother, love is a hug. A touch on the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek. Crying on someone's shoulder and using their shirt as a tissue and not feeling ashamed.
Love is what drives me on (can drive you mad). Love is passion, creativity-I'm always more creative when I'm in love--Love is unrequited. Unwept, unhonored, and unsung, left to die quietly when something better comes along.
Love is answering the phone for the thousandth time at 3 o'clock in the morning. Love is ringing the same number for the tenth time in a row, hoping maybe, this time, you won't get her voicemail. Love is calling the police when you're scared someone will hurt themselves, love is quietly listening to the person berate you for it and understanding that they're hurting, and that's all it is.
Love is setting boundaries, saying this far and no further. Love is taking care of yourself, putting your own oxygen mask on first, so that you can properly handle other people's needs.
Love is trust, lust, and companionship all bound up together in a knot so tight no one could ever untie it, and no one would ever want to.
Love is deciding not to have children because you know they deserve better than your genes; love is deciding to have children because you can't imagine anything better than something made out of the love between you and your partner.
Love is having art projects and mix CDs and poetry dedicated to you. Love is writing those poems, compiling those mix CDs, painting or somehow putting together that art. Love is listening to a radio station at 3AM because you know she's there, spinning tunes for you.
Love is fixing your uncle's computer at 6pm on Thanksgiving when you have a 3 1/2 hour drive back. Or trying to, anyway. Love is laughing and telling him to get a better one, a new one, because as much as you try 17000 photos and a computer made in 2003 don't mesh.
Love is letting your wife drive everywhere because that way she's much calmer, despite cranky old men telling you off because real men don't let their wives drive.
Love is meeting someone you've never seen, but you could catalogue the meaning of their sighs better than the draw of your own breath. Love is moving in with someone after two days, or two years.
Love is letting go. Love is going after her.
Love is writing emails that you're not sure will be read, love is standing outside her window with a boombox playing Peter Gabriel, love is sitting on an airplane waiting for the fasten seatbelts sign to click off. Love is sitting on a bus, texting furiously with the person who's waiting for you.
Love is never faking an orgasm. Love is always kind but sometimes impatient. Love is tough, and scary, and sometimes hard as hell when you're doing it right-and always, when you're doing it wrong.
Love is crying in therapy; love is singing in the rain.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth. Comment there (
), or feel free to comment here.
alchemi and I are doing a meme.
(Yes, I know I still haven't finished my last round of comments from the last meme I did. I'm working on it!)
Words he gave me, to which I am supposed to say what they mean to me:
1. Love.
2. Friendship.
3. Suicide.
4. Health.
5. Family.
First off, Love.
Love is saying you're sorry because you really mean it. Love is cleaning up after someone else's mess because you know they like it when the sink is clean. Love is hemming your daughter's pants, love is knitting a scarf for your mother, love is a hug. A touch on the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek. Crying on someone's shoulder and using their shirt as a tissue and not feeling ashamed.
Love is what drives me on (can drive you mad). Love is passion, creativity-I'm always more creative when I'm in love--Love is unrequited. Unwept, unhonored, and unsung, left to die quietly when something better comes along.
Love is answering the phone for the thousandth time at 3 o'clock in the morning. Love is ringing the same number for the tenth time in a row, hoping maybe, this time, you won't get her voicemail. Love is calling the police when you're scared someone will hurt themselves, love is quietly listening to the person berate you for it and understanding that they're hurting, and that's all it is.
Love is setting boundaries, saying this far and no further. Love is taking care of yourself, putting your own oxygen mask on first, so that you can properly handle other people's needs.
Love is trust, lust, and companionship all bound up together in a knot so tight no one could ever untie it, and no one would ever want to.
Love is deciding not to have children because you know they deserve better than your genes; love is deciding to have children because you can't imagine anything better than something made out of the love between you and your partner.
Love is having art projects and mix CDs and poetry dedicated to you. Love is writing those poems, compiling those mix CDs, painting or somehow putting together that art. Love is listening to a radio station at 3AM because you know she's there, spinning tunes for you.
Love is fixing your uncle's computer at 6pm on Thanksgiving when you have a 3 1/2 hour drive back. Or trying to, anyway. Love is laughing and telling him to get a better one, a new one, because as much as you try 17000 photos and a computer made in 2003 don't mesh.
Love is letting your wife drive everywhere because that way she's much calmer, despite cranky old men telling you off because real men don't let their wives drive.
Love is meeting someone you've never seen, but you could catalogue the meaning of their sighs better than the draw of your own breath. Love is moving in with someone after two days, or two years.
Love is letting go. Love is going after her.
Love is writing emails that you're not sure will be read, love is standing outside her window with a boombox playing Peter Gabriel, love is sitting on an airplane waiting for the fasten seatbelts sign to click off. Love is sitting on a bus, texting furiously with the person who's waiting for you.
Love is never faking an orgasm. Love is always kind but sometimes impatient. Love is tough, and scary, and sometimes hard as hell when you're doing it right-and always, when you're doing it wrong.
Love is crying in therapy; love is singing in the rain.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth. Comment there (
), or feel free to comment here.