Rising

Love confuses me. I say I don't trust it. I say I never have. Yet I watch as everyone around me falls and falls and find myself wondering what makes it so wonderful. Maybe I already know. I asked my best friend about it yesterday. He didn't know either.

I think I feel it most in a crowd, when the love is most noticeable. And I'm content with only my friends. Right? Right? Yes. It's all I ever wanted. All I ever needed. Yet the other kind of love intrigues me. I stand alone, but I have my friends. So I'm not alone at all. And another friend of mine told me that I have to take a step back from myself and look at it all. "It's crap you don't know what it is. You've been there longer than any of us. And you know it. You've been in love for years and years. You're the only one who can't see it."

So I guess it's true about not knowing yourself at all.

I sing along with myself because there's no one else to sing with anymore. The crowd begins to sing along with me and the movement grows louder and stronger and I get caught up in the art all over again. I'll dislcaim it all.

"Yes, I'm in love, have been in love, will always be in love--with that madness. With those words. With that tune."

But it's a lie. I would have none of it without that other love. And why are we so caught up in being in love in the first place? Isn't just loving enough? And does it make a difference? Recently, someone told me that being in love is just extreme love of a friend. But I don't see a difference. I think I have all I've ever wanted right now. Nothing is missing, except the lack of distance.

Remember?. . . Life's a manipulative kind of guy.