Passion

Those who know me well will tell you I’m all about passion… in every sense of the word. I want my life to be passionate. I want it to be grand and beautiful and emotional and scary and freeing. But my hell… Passion can be quite the bitch, right? And I hate that word…

Passion can change who we are. We might change just for the moment or maybe a year or sometimes it can be a permanent change. Passion can bring light and love and freedom. Passion can also bring pain, betrayal and confusion.

But passion just might be my lifeline, my path, my vision. A meaning in all the chaos that is life. The hot pink in a world of gray.

Most people hear the word passion and immediately think of two people entangled together – it’s an enticing picture. It’s like fire. It is fierce. It is also fear and insanity.

Passion is complicated. It has many meanings, many feelings. It’s essential. It’s frightening. It’s hopeless.

And as a passionately damaged person, I seem to have a passion for trying to help others who may be damaged. My mother brought this fact to my attention – I want to fix. I want to help. I want to save.

Passion is one of those emotions that can… well, ruin you.

There is a part of me that becomes attracted to being tormented. Because maybe I can save the tormentor. I can protect them. I can heal their wounds. Because they matter way more than I do.

When I see that someone doesn’t think they deserve love… I want to show them they do. I put them on a higher platform. I make them famous in my life. I make excuses for them – they really are nice, they won’t hurt me again, their heart is pure – but oddly enough, I usually know it’s a lie and it’s proven to me over and over and over.

Or maybe I like the challenge. I want to know that I can do it. I can make someone better, more deserving. If I can fix them… maybe I can be fixed too.

Or it could be the excitement I crave. The adrenaline rush. Being with them is unpredictable… will they break my heart again? I’m always walking on eggshells, waiting for them to realize I am not enough.

But in reality, I relish in the good moments. I ache to feel those brief times of peace. I wait to hear that they’ve come to their senses and have chosen me. To appreciate me. To love me. To let me lie in their arms and swim in the same passion I’ve felt for them. They’ve changed. They won’t hurt me. They know that I am the glue that holds them together, until…

Well, maybe sometimes I take the ax to the glue too… Maybe I don’t take of myself like I should. Maybe I want them to make a choice and act so much that I lay back and let it slip away. Maybe there is an evil inside of me that I chose to ignore.

You are a drug.

So many amazing nights and amazing memories

that have weaseled their way into my bloodstream.

I’m infected with this unrelenting desire.

I’m dependant on knowing if you care.

If I am beautiful in your eyes.

It feels so good to just remember the good.

Erase the bad… let the bad drift away like taking the needle out of my arm.

Become numb and only live for the highs.

Push everything else away, so I can smile at you.

Passion is dangerous.

Passion and damaged is deadly.