Tinglings

When I was younger I never considered myself to be overly sensitive, the words I would use would lean more towards;perceptive, open, human. I felt everything and everything I didn't feel I made sure I felt the loss of. I revelled in the chemical reactions that came with a new crush, the rush I got from the simple sensation of touch from that one human being that at that one point in time  had my molecules out of control, my body not being able to contain the sensations that were described by my mind. There was nothing innocent about that feeling, about allowing myself to be swept away by unknown streams that led to unkown rivers. There was no stability, no application of the mind to my reactions and no appropriate actions taken to curb them even when they veered me into darkness.

I once tried to express how I felt about my current beau without being honest. I stated categorically that all those butterflies and airplanes and fuzzyness that I normally experienced were for the most part absent and justified it by saying that I wasnt. I was a believer you see in the one. I clung to the hope that in all these rushes I would find one that would surpass all others and never fade or dwindle. The starting point was being out of control, being utterly dim, being everything I never really wasnt. All to revel in the thought of dissembling in someone's arms. The truth was that I had thought it over, decided that I did not want to spend the rest of my youth waiting for something that might never happen. I abondoned my faith in it. When I made the choice to be an active participant in choosing my life long mate, the criteria as it were was very low. I decided to give a chance to someone that was interested in me and  sincere about it. I figured the rest would reveal itslef in time.

We courted. I hid all my scars for as long as I could but three years later the cracks began to show. Sometimes we forget that while we are working on trying to be perfect we are missing out on experiencing how to be loved as we are, missing out on ways we could better ourselves and missing out on generally being happier. Happiness didnt mean that we had to be together, it could easily have meant that we should part.

When I hadn't seen him for a while  I waited in anticipation for our first kiss, my skin tingled at his touch. There are days when I watch him laugh and I think of how beautiful he looks and wish that he could always be this happy. I  remember that days might come when he will not smile at me or laugh, or even see me and I cherish those moments even more because of thier mortality. I love wanting to just lie next to him. Then there are days when I wonder why I ever let him touch me at all, days when his loving looks turn into scorn. All of these days pass and we venture on.

I never wonder about the one anymore, I cant see past this annoying, frustrating, lovable, irrisistable jerkface, the bane and bliss of my life. There more we experince together, the more beautiful he he becomes. The more the time passes, the more... tinglings. I am not advocating for abondoning your beliefs I am just saying that perhaps there is more than one way to find the one that you are looking for. Not a better way, but perhaps just a different way without forsaking what you think you need.