When you know, you know. Trust your instincts. It is natures quiet gift.
Life is a journey of risks. We are born with two fears; the fear of a loud sound and the fear of falling.
My instincts were screaming loudly as I took the risk to fall. I awoke from my unconscious state surrounded by a pool of blood caused by the deep gaping hole in my chest. I struggled to catch my breath as I realized I was drowning in my own tears that no one attempted to wipe up. Hurt! Damaged! Alone! I slowly became aware that in the end, life goes on as long as your brain is not dead. If you can feel the pain, then you can figure out how to heal. Today, I'm my own doctor. I am my own nurse. I am my own surgeon painfully struggling to restore the broken pieces. There is no anesthesia to numb this excruciating pain but my brain won't let me quit. I hate that I love love. It is such a painfully pleasurable pain. What goes up must come down unless it is in a place to defy gravity. I leaped into the arms of a turned back. I guess I landed at the wrong time. Broken.
SONNET 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
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