# 54 || serva me, servabo te

( For Taylah, Forever Ago )

Reciprocity and the golden rule is far easier said than done -  the volume of unrequited everything these days is absolutely devastating. I don’t know what comes of any desire derived and designed solely for selfish incentives. Often though, you can get so caught up in the self-satisfaction of gladdening the world that everything else falls apart. Suddenly you’re standing amid a mass of debris that was once everything you ever wanted but it was all too magnificent, you became overwhelmed and you couldn’t sustain it. Or maybe that is the way it is supposed to be, maybe that’s existence, maybe the highs must have their complement of lows but I can’t let myself believe that. No, no, non, I cannot accept that the meaning of life is to pick yourself up and dust yourself off every other day, that the wind of one door closing opens another, that letting go of something or somebody or somewhere you love beyond description could possibly be an option.

Though at some point, maybe you do need to get off that merry-go-round of tears, trouble and trials that you stand no chance at winning because safety and security will always worth settling for. It makes sense because the only sort of love I know, is the kind that rips your heart apart at the seams before standing back and daring you to stitch all the pieces together and make you As Good As New! Or better, even. Maybe mediocrity must be my new normal, before all the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’t possibly put me back together again.

Dear Yellow-Brick-Road, why would you ever intertwine my path with some things so incredible, but so momentary? Incredible might be an understatement, or it might be the wrong word completely. Because this sensation inside my soul is both inexpressive and intangible - I feel so shamefully naive to think that I might have been worthy of a fragment of fairytale. Even now, I still haven’t figured it out — but maybe it is better to have never loved at all, than to have loved and lost. Tous les jours je me réveille dans un cauchemar. And it’s not a mindset, it’s more real than I ever thought possible.

In a moment, something stole the magic and put it somewhere secret. 
 In a moment, I am everything I swore I would never ever be. 
  In a moment, down went Alice after it . . .
    never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

PS. I'll tell you a secret. It might not keep you sane but it will keep you alive. You're better than this. You're better than expectations and entitlements and disappointment and despair. It's okay to want it all to go away as long as you don't. x