Day Two Hundred and Sixty Five - Worth It

I've fallen in love twice in my life. I've loved many, many people, but there is a difference between loving someone, and falling in love with them. And I've only fallen in love twice. Though I thought I was falling a bunch of times. That rush is addicting. When you can't stop thinking about that person, when you can't stop talking to them, and when you're not talking to them, you're talking about them. Just... gorging yourself on someone else. And I know that I for one absolutely bathe in the attention. My first relationship... well it slowly broke my heart but not because he cheated (which, I guess, is still debatable but I'm convinced even if he never admits it) or because he broke up with me multiple times or any of the other things he did wrong. It was what he didn't do. It took months, but my life slowly ebbed out of me, month by month, due to neglect. The silence is what killed me. Which is a good part of the reason why I love attention as much as I do. I never, ever want to feel neglected ever, ever again.

But there has to be a happy medium between bright flash fires of infatuation and a dying fire that leaves you cold. The fire that burns for a long time, the fire that keeps you warm during the cold nights of life has to be built slowly. You cannot just dump lighter fluid on some kindling and expect the blaze to last. You have to build it. Kindling, then smaller logs, then the big ones. And it has to be fed. The human experience is full of experiences and emotions and thoughts enough to build a fire for a lifetime, if only you make sure to tend the fire. 

I'm so used to flash fires. That's what I did for years when I got too cold and lonely. I grabbed some twigs, a bottle of lighter fluid, and found someone to keep me warm for a little bit. But flash fires have a way of exploding in your face, too. Taking the time to actually build a fire is something that's... almost entirely new to me. That was the second time, you see. I built that fire without ever knowing that I was building it. It started so slow I didn't even notice. I didn't even mean to set it on fire, but I did. But it didn't keep me warm. It left me colder than I've ever been. Because after I lit it, he shook his head and dumped a bucket of cold water on it and walked away. I've never shivered so much. 

I don't want any more flash fires. And I don't want to shiver either. So I've built my own fire. My life is something I'm happy with. My happiness, my warmth, cannot be taken away because of anyone else. I am the tender of my own fire. It depends on no one but me. And I sit, warm, and wait for someone who wants to join me. I won't put my fire out for theirs, and don't want anyone to put theirs out for mine. I just want to share a fire. I'm not going to force it, I'm not going to rush it, but I'm not going to neglect it either. Because one day, in time, there will be that man that will help me feed my fire and I will help him with his, and they'll grow together. And it's worth the time it takes. I know it is. Because one fire made of two will always be stronger than two trying to make one.