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photo credit unknown.

“I have time.”

We all think it.

I’ll start this tomorrow. I’ll be ready next month. I swear, this new year is the one where I will start that book, learn a new language, travel the world, move to a new place, chase my passion, fall in love, leave the job I hate, stop settling, work on myself, grab life by the balls.

You may be young, but that doesn’t guarantee an infinite amount of time to be alive. The truth is, your life can end at any moment. People don’t like to think about that.

Why?

Because it’s fucking scary.

But I think about it.

I think about it every god damn day.

When I think about time..

I think about dreams, about me, about love.

Love is really important to me. Not just the love of a person, but the love of places, things, passions, words, dreams, conversations, and most of all, life. I want the time to get lost in everything I love, including myself. And it all comes down to time. How much time do I have? I don’t really know. And I won’t find out until it’s too late. So, I want to live like I might not have a lot of time.

Just in case.

Dreams are what I want to follow. What are they? Where should they take me? Am I chasing them or running from them? Am I doing things that make me happy? If I am not, what the fuck am I doing then?

Wasting precious time?

Things happened. Okay, well, a lot of shit happened that halted, plateaued, and sometimes, outright crushed my plans. Some of these things were beyond my control, some things weren’t. But either way, I’m done using my time thinking about them. It’s time to let go. It’s time to move on. Things are going to keep happening that I can’t stop, but I can’t let that stop me.

I don’t want to die drowning, choking, sinking, suffocating.

When I go, I want to be full speed,

gunning it off a cliff face,

Thelma and Louise style.

Me, myself, and I. I want to use time to find the parts of me I don’t already know. I want time to bring light to the shady parts. I want time to fix the broken and time to spread my wings. I want time to love the dusty things on old, dark shelves. Am I letting go of the things that no longer serve me? Am I letting go of the people who damage me? Am I releasing the negative in order to grab a hold of the good things? Am I not feeling sorry for doing that? Am I changing what I can and accepting the things I can’t? Can I look in the mirror and tell myself…

you are everything you need,

you are whole all by yourself.

Most of all though, I think about time when it comes to love. This is the hardest one to face. You wonder how much was wasted, how much love was abused, how much love was taken for granted by someone who didn’t deserve it? I never intended to settle. And even though time waits for no one, I still don’t intend to settle. Because the kind of love I’m looking for, despite popular belief, I know, I fucking know, exists out there somewhere.

When I love, I tend to see all that you are, even when you don’t really see it yourself, and love each and every part of who and what makes you. The same goes for when I love a thing. I tend to immerse myself in it. I want to learn every angle, every piece of the story, the history, all there is to know so I can love it truly, completely.

It’s usually all in or all out with me. When I think about time, I never think about wasting it on the mediocre. There are so many things in this life that are mediocre. Love should never, not fucking ever, be one of them.

So I say what I feel, and then I say a little more. Most of the time I say too much. But I figure, will I regret telling someone I love them, someone I miss them, someone that I appreciate their existence, showing them how much I care?

Never.

I am never sorry for how much I love.

You shouldn’t be either.

And if some asshole takes it for granted or makes you feel bad for loving them too much or too hard, then they don’t deserve it.

Don’t ever water down the way you feel.

Love is an oil painting..

thick and messy,

taking time to dry into the masterpiece it’s meant to be.

Love is not a fucking watercolor.

I say, if you have a choice, always choose to love too much. Because when you let the right ones in, it’s worth every ounce of it.

Some might say I love too hard. But I hope someday I find someone who won’t be afraid of how much I love. They won’t want to stand on the shore with their toes in the sand; they’ll grab my hand and go diving into the deep with me.

There will be someone who can be honest, who can make me believe in trusting someone without a doubt. Someone who is consistent, someone who communicates, someone who follows through, someone who is faithful, someone who believes in keeping some things to ourselves, someone who appreciates the little things, someone who wants to talk about nothing at all, and then everything at once, staying kids at heart, staying up all night underneath a bedfort of sheets and pillows, someone who dances in the rain, someone who believes romance is something two people work at and work towards and work on every single day, to hold onto the love you find in stories.

But until then, there is one important lesson I’ve been learning this past year..

to fall in love with yourself while you wait patiently.

I want to love myself so that someone else can love the best and truest version of me. And in these moments of in-between, no matter how long they last, I will not be wasting any more time. That, I can assure you.

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