Love Hurts…

Love Hurts.

Love Hurts.

“This is a test of the emergency love system. Please stand by.” Or more precisely that was what it felt like last night, when out of the blue I started emotionally vibrating like a plucked harp string.

A physical condition that I would described as one that has you grasping for breath, while you endure a pounding sensation in your stomach. At the same time you seem to riding the high from a bio-chemical wave of endorphins similar to that which you get from dancing to your favorite song at a disco.

All these physical sensations seem to be competing against each other, to see which one will be that one that rules all the others. Yet in reality none of them ends up in control, there is an odd balance at play here. Like a painfully awkward dance where your partner keeps stepping on your feet with her heels.

I don’t share my diary entries, ever. Yet this random experience has inspired me to do just that – to share what I wrote in the middle of this oh-so interesting experience.



There is truly nothing as awkward emotionally as that thin knife point moment when you finally become aware & realize that the fluttering in your stomach is the stirring of Love. The moment you realize that you have been subconsciously lay prone – doing nothing – hating the boringness of reality.

Which is a the dark side of Love – not being able to function to any real degree, being lost in yourself like you are in a darkened room, bumping into unseen furniture. Lost in an unknown landscape. For me, the sign is that the rest of life has lost all favor – excitement. Nothing stirs me like it did just a day ago.

All when I am not in the person’s aura – presence. And yet when I am in their presence, I can feel my heart as if it is out of my chest – raw, exposed to the wide world. I feel like I can’t breath, afraid to exist, to move – for fear of losing the potential of Love.

He won’t answer my text – longing, yearning, calling with every piece of my being not to be rejected. Deathly afraid of the devastation to follow if he did reject me. Sweet Mary, am I mad? I only met him twice. And yet my stomach aches, I can’t breath. I tried to resist – then I did my normal thing of texting my emotions in vague mystical terms. Easy to express myself in the shadows, from afar. Yet at the end of it, I couldn’t breath.

I called DT, she would not give me advice until I pressed. She asked frankly if I wanted to bask in it or? I said I could not wait.

I mentioned Rumi says “behead yourself for Love.” She said invoke Rumi. So with her on the line I texted him back.

That was 25 minutes ago and I still can’t breath, can’t exist normally, obsessing on this.

My fear is overwhelming me.

Divine help me…

Am I a fool? Mad? Insane?

I will read DT this…

I asked for Love again… Being Tortured.”

I would like to point out that I am not normally that emotional. I like things to be on the surface, to enjoy the floating nature of my existence. To taste from time to time the depths of my own being, but in an orderly controlled fashion. Much like drawing water up from a well, you want the clear sweet taste of the water from the depths, but in the warm sunlight of the surface world.




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