I fell in love for him three years ago. The ground impact really hurt me one year ago. You can only feel the whole pain when there’s no more distance between you and the ground: that’s reality right there. It means that when I opened my eyes to face my illusions and how far they were from the true guy I was in love with, I had only two options: stay on the ground or rise.
So, I rose in love. In love for me, most of all, deciding to take better care of myself and not throwing my time and energy away for those not reciprocal with me. I rose in love for him too, since I could only really love him after I accepted who he truly was, the good and the bad.
When I got back on my feet, another important lesson came to me. I realized the real magic about falling in love is doing it for someone that won’t let you hit the ground. It’s counting on a hand, an embrace that will handle your stumbles before you get injured. Or at least will help you when you need bandages. And, in any and all cases, you have to be that one for yourself.
So, after falling, facing the ground and getting back on my feet, I feel ready to walk again. Not throw me on a bungee jump tour, funny only once for this sensitive heart. But walking along a warm beach till I’m ready to catch another shared flight. Because rising in (self) love feels better than falling in love for anyone else. Although it’s quieter compared to the euphoria of diving in another person, I feel when the time is right, it’ll lead me to happy shared climb.
