i love with the ferocity of a lioness rending the flesh from a still-quivering carcass. i fear my emotion; fear that it will kill with that same animal instinct. it is for that reason alone i squash and deny it. i cannot bear to let my beasts loose themselves on innocents. my conscience would never stand it. so i wander, on the precipice, blithely kicking small stones over the edge, watching them fall, wishing i could let my love run with the power and grace it was born to. but i stay on solid, safe, mundane ground… and so it goes, again.
amen to that. too true, and isn’t it sad?
*sitting in an emotional vacuum*
god, that sounds just like something i would have written in my own journal about 4 years ago.