A Place Holder

I had promised someone that I would write something about love and affection. I can't do justice to it tonight. I still intend to on a different day, although it's more difficult to separate myself from a subject that is very personal. It's certainly intimidating: what can I say about love that hasn't already been said a hundred times over? Is there anything new, and if there is, do I know it?

I have thought myself in love several times over my life. Each time, it occurs to me that the previous time was like stumbling in a dark room and not realizing that I'm in a house. Each new love unfolds as a bigger canvas, that encompasses what I thought I felt and expands from there.

Odd for me to consider it, but in the moment, each relationship seemed to be all that I could give at that particular time. How amazing. It's like riding in an airplane and seeing the whole dimensions of the city I grew up in reduced to the view through a window, approximately one foot square.

Watching other people fall in love gradually is astounding. Often we can't see it in ourselves, because we're notoriously bad at examining our own feelings. But it can be quite apparent when viewing others. Seeing people feel good around each other and not know why; feeling people begin to understand and embrace (metaphysically and physically).

Many people don't appreciate that attraction is a risk: a big one. It is an unsupported supposition, at least until it's reciprocated. Then it no longer matters what you call it.

Man, I'm exhausted. Even my eyelids are tired.