Sometimes I ask myself why everything I write is about love.. but the answer is in the question, isn’t it? Love IS everything, at least to me.
I suppose the word usually represents romantic feelings to others, but it’s not the same for me. Love, to me, is peaceful passion. It is care and worry and hope. I can love a partner, family, friends, but I also feel a deep love for life itself.
So funny, from someone with depression, right? Someone who sometimes sobs for hours in the dark morning hours, wondering if it’s really worth it to go on. One might think that I hate life.
But I love it. I love the stars in the sky, seeing the moon during daylight, hearing wind blow through the trees. I love crowded trains and seeing strangers holding hands. I love coming across creative graffiti and seeing seagulls steal food from tourists. I love when trash on the sidewalk happens to make a smiley face and when people babble things in public that only make sense to them. I love skinned knees and the swears that flow when someone stubs their toe.
I love life, with all its chaotic emotions and excruciating beauty.
But I hate, I am infuriated, I am torn to shreds by the things that try to keep me from life.
You know what I mean, right? Those things that try to devour the soul. Those cold things that extinguish all meaning in life and make you feel like an empty shell.
That’s where my depression comes from.
But the best cure for that is love. It can be literally any kind of love, as long as you truly feel it.
So if I seem to focus a little too hard on this single subject, I ask you not to forgive, but to embrace it… For love is my foundation, and it will never be replaced.
Yelling to Myself 