Okay. Tell me. Tell me how you’ve been so hurt before, how you gave and gave, only to have those whom you gave to, take off with fistfulls of your heart. Tell me how it feels such a waste to have loved then been left. Tell me how the unclear yet impending finish line of anything makes you not want to try. Tell me how scared you are. Tell me how it kills you to know that there’s a chance it might all turn out to be for naught. Just because it can end.
Because I have something to tell you.
There will be an end. There is an end to anything in life- even life. And that’s a blessing; in fact, it’s exactly why the Gods envy us. That we can grasp the concept of mortality, finality, completion and death, this makes us do, say, love, be. It makes us.
Take that same idea, add a few drops of your past heartaches, and it twists into an excuse for wanting to do just the opposite. To give up. "Why would you sprint to the edge of a cliff?" You slow down. Stop trying. Start to belong only to yourself. You quit.
But whether the “end” of “us” is the end of the relationship, or the end of our lives, see it not as an excuse to hold back. See it as the very reason you should give all the more fiercely.
Love isn’t finite. It escapes what all other beings and ideas are vulnerable to- running dry. Love. Is endless. Your heart expands along with your capacity to feel it. If you know how to love, you’ll never run out. The more you give it, the more it replenishes itself.
Please, love, don’t hold back. Don’t let the hurt and bitterness sit and sit and build on itself until it forms a wall in your heart that takes love and ricochets it back onto another in the form of silence and apathy. Stay soft. Stay open. Stay generous and kind, caring and receptive.
People think they’re protecting themselves from the “end” of things by choosing to be inhibited. They’re not. They’re depriving themselves. They wait stone-faced and closed-hearted, and end up fearing death so much they let nothing live.
Tell me you won’t don’t do this anymore.