Wingdings

Sometimes what we want and what wants us are the same thing. Sometimes not.
Sometimes what we need and what needs us are the same thing. Sometimes not.
Sometimes who we are and who we want to be are the same thing. Sometimes not.
But all the time, we are stuck with ourselves. Like it or not.

Real love lives to be walked on.
Because true love is a bridge.
To give without receiving.
To accept fake in exchange for real.
To choose to be on the losing end.
Sacrifice.
It lives to be taken advantage of.
To willingly hurt without spite.
To feed the hand that bites it. Purposefully and intentionally.
Day after day, again and again.
Love.
Keeping no record of wrongs.
Not asking anything more of anybody.
To hold its peace in the silence of pain.
And to swallow up pain like a rock in the ocean.
If you place a rock in a glass of water, the water only gets deeper.
Thinks not of itself.
Falls for you and me every day.
Gets up after the umpteenth time.

That which is most freely given is most often taken for granted.

So what do we do with all this fake? All this giving only if it receives. All this loving only if it is loved. Self seeking. Manipulative. Filth. Spit it out. I hate it. It is wrong in so many ways. Physical pain. Guilt. Longing. Burning within itself. Soon hollow and empty. And used. By itself. How wonderfully addicting.

And I don’t know how to react. God teach me to LOVE.

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