Crazy Love

I have this trouble with loving people. It's not hard, not hard at all, for me to love people. It's easy. SUPER easy. Easy like Sunday morning. Easy like saying 'yes'. Easy like breathing. I love like breathing: it's there, and I do.

Because I'm a lazy bastard overly fond of touching and holding and kissing and that feeling you get in the belly when you're looking a friend in the eye and they're telling you something painful, something really old and painful that's given them this scar tissue that they usually pick at when they're alone but you're there with them and they feel safe and they decide to open up, to open to you and they tell you this thing, this sad old thing that hurts them and they look you in the eye as they're hurting and you try to say out your eyes at them "Go 'head, it's safe right here, I got ya" and maybe hold their hand if they're touchers, or give them a little patpat on their hard shoulder if they're not, because I'm okay with that, because that feels like closeness to me, because all of it's okay whatever happens I'm down with it if it feels like closeness, like intimacy, I fall directly into love with most everyone I spend more than seventeen minutes with and that's the trouble.

I'm a lover, not so much a thinker. Love first, think later. Maybe. If I think at all. It's questionable, this propensity for going all soft for friends and manfriends and people on the street with a terrible limp or parts that clearly hurt, or so crazy that if I get too close I'll be drawn right into their world and hear the voices they hear and see the things they see and I might never be able to come back, that world is so real to them and I'm a sucker for crazy because it vibrates at a real familar frequency for me.

I question it in myself because it feels like bullshit a lot of the time. Who loves like that? What sorts of cultural messages about being a woman, or being a mother, or being fucking nice, have made me this softy, this sap? I can't possibly be circumspect enough, wise enough, benevolent enough, to have some kind of gentle compassion for all beings. I am selfish and needy and greedy for closeness and interaction and seeing the parts that hurt in people and there's nothing remotely wise or detached about it. I want to love people so hard that I crawl up next to their skin and know them, really right there, and this is probably the least sane thing about me.

I'm working on it.