Our passion is always under attack

In my mind I could sit here and write you a scene of what would make me happy. Not even just happy, but the ultimate joy in my life. I see and feel it all unfolding, I even walk with a lighter step.

What happens from then is life comes in to pull us apart. My joy is to feel the heat of my love. I feel her being ripped from me, see flashes in my mind that just enrage me really. Pushing me from one extreme to another, a real violent shift that leaves me confused really.

I level myself out and realize I can’t just have my desire without fighting for it. If I care there will be someone who doesn’t. Someone who wishes to put a wedge in between just because they can. Sure that’s probably not every person, yet I believe it is.

There is no relief and no rest, when I’m asleep and she isn’t here. I’m always wondering, keeping my mind sharp to the possibilities. Of course this leaves me paranoid, a side effect of passion in my eyes. I get excited to defend it, to see my life in danger and evade it.

I want to live, I want to thrust myself into life. To hang on until my fingers are sliced off. I do not wish to lose hope until there simply is no hope left. If you stop seeing me post I’m probably dead or was infected by the sickness.