Loves me, loves me not.

She loves me, she loves me not. A childish game played by those who are smitten for someone. Regardless of any positive sign of hope, they will constantly doubt the other person could love them back. We doubt out of fear; fear that if we allow ourselves to think there is even a sliver of love there, the love we feel may never be overcome. Every sign could point to us being soulmates and yet I would still look away and pretend that I was blinded from this because I do not want to allow myself to hope for such a thing.

I have never felt so connected to an inanimate object as I do with a two man saw. Being pulled back and forth but still managing to accomplish the task at hand. Feeling useful and useless at the same time. Finding the balance between love with hope and sadness with pain. Thinking this person has the opportunity to be the best and worst thing for me.

Knowing if I let the hope win, I risk either extreme. While the idea of letting her love me the same way I do her, fills me with more light than I thought possible; the risk of losing her entirely is a darkness I do not care to experience. So I continue to swim and I continue to swim– laps around the ocean. Caught in between the island and the abyss, I continue to tread. I will stay there. Close enough to land that I would survive the storm which may pass and close enough to freedom that it keeps the idea alive.

I am one with the water. It brings me comfort and washes away the pain of yesterday. I have always been drawn to it. The calm waters and the powerful waves– it did not matter, there was safety in both. The water is healing, nurturing, yet it also has the power to cause great damage.

She is a beautiful shipwreck. A boat which lost its battle with the wicked waves of the sea. I scour the ocean floor in search of the pieces which were lost. In hopes that if the ship is put back together just enough to float again, she will either choose to guide me to freedom, or she will at least be ready to carry another to safety. Either way, she will be better off. Isn’t that what loving someone is truly about? Wanting the best for them, even if that may never be you. Love is not selfish. Those who are selfish, manipulate people into “loving” them, but that is not love. It never will be. I could never allow myself to be selfish with her; because I will always love her more than I thought humanly possible. After a long day of rebuilding what once was, I find my way back to the land.

I walk across the gritty sand, only to find the most mesmerizing orange flower. I sit beside it and appreciate its unique beauty. The fire lily is a rare plant to come across. Rare, beautiful and unique, it was no wonder I felt drawn to the flower. I plucked one of them from the root of the plant. I sat there, carefully examining the petals which were vibrant with colour. I tugged on one of them and released it into the wind, “she loves me” I whispered softly. The next one following the first, catching wind and dancing together, “she loves me not,” I choke the words out. This would always be a game which represented fear and hope. Such a silly game.