Morning glories close mid-day.

Alana Settle
Aug 31, 2018 · 2 min read

I want to be someone who is able to offer love that is not attached to pain, but I’m not sure what this looks like.

“A parody of love and loneliness” or “the epidemic of loneliness” or “what is loneliness?”
I am considering the selfishness of youth.
I am considering the youth I lost.

Please, ask me a question and then listen to my answer.
The most intimate form of care and love lives in the empathy of pursuing the knowledge of another and hearing it.

How should I exist?

As my body is lifted, I hover above the ground my finger outstretched towards God. The touch of divinity and humanity reside in me.

“Come, you fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing your grace
Streams of mercy never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise.”

What defines you?

I lie deep in the ground waiting to blossom.
As my deep well runs dry I question the integrity of love.

Do you know me?
How much are you willing to give up for true love?

I think true love lies deep within the selfishness of self-love.”
I cannot love you more than I love myself.”

And the paradox erupts.
​My body cringes with the pain of it all.
Tragedy and truth lie together.
And my humanity makes me real.

​Come touch me and you will experience the reality of me.

Despite my better judgement I forget myself and wear my insecurities on my sleeve. It is an out of body experience as I talk to her. I observe my ticks and judge myself wishing I could stop it all.

“We are one underneath the sun.”

Who am I?
Who are you?

I say I love you with all of the commitment it requires, acknowledging the risk and embracing the hope.

I will be here.
I am taking my time to do what is right with me.
I want to love you well.

And perhaps I will remain misunderstood here.
And perhaps that is okay.


Originally published at alanajamison.ink.

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