Glass of chocolate?
Happiness. Simple as a glass of chocolate or tortuous as the heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive. – Chocolat
My happiness has ceased to be a glass of chocolate. Why? My happiness is now as tortuous as the heart. It permeates me, consumes me, wakes me up to aching points I didn’t know existed.
My happiness isn’t simple any more.
I can’t comprehend my moods. I get happy, excited, nervous, sexy, confident, trainwrecked, sensual, overwhelmed, jealous, mad, angry – in a succession of moments. Love has taken on a new, more volatile meaning.
It’s scary.
Scary for I always envisioned it as something subtle, something sublime, something that would swimmingly transcend insecurities, jealousies and fears.
Apparently not.
Am I insecure or just have the right instincts? Am I constrained by my love or liberated by it? My hunches are so strong it’s painful to see the other think you a fool…I fear my foresight for once. Please let me grow, please let me be me the way I was…I have to let go of my dependencies, I must transcend. Only then can I get back what I once had: a glass of chocolate. Simple.
