Feed Me to the Fire

I think I have a gift in the way that I love, in the intensity and the duration.  I assume the best of people, and I love like a song, like legend and fairytale.  It’s a great thing to be loved like that, even if it doesn’t last.  To be able to say that someone loved you with that kind of passion, to be able to say that you have loved someone like that, both ends of the equations are amazing.

I don’t hold back.  I may hold back my expression of it at first for fear of overwhelming the subject, but I don’t hold back the emotion.  I’m scared of getting hurt, but to love like this…to feel this way…it’s too good. 

I think people hold back because it hurts less when it ends, because it’s easier to move on.  Fuck that.  Blaze of glory, goddammit!  Feed me to the fire.  At least I’ll never be cold.

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I’m too volatile.  Too needy.  Too demanding.  My expectations are too high.  I jump to conclusions too readily and I’m impatient.  Sometimes, I’m braver than others.  Better get used to this…more ups and downs.  Maybe I’ll make the right decisions this time.  Maybe, I’ll make all the right decisions this time and it will end anyway and then I can be truly broken and jaded and finally give up all hope.  Maybe that’s what I need.