It was like being born all over again. And not the kind that happens in churches either. This was the real deal. Like coming into a brave new world where you are utterly vulnerable to cause and effect. Falling in love is what they call it. It tastes so sweet, like the juices of ripe fruit when it first hits your watering mouth. It is like flying in a dream, invincibility is at your fingertips, but never quite in your grasp. To be in love, it’s like having hope knock at your door to tell you that she’s still here. She’s alive and well, and she’s here for you.
This is what I felt for the man that walked into my life with such assurance. He played the strings of my heart like a violin, lulling me with melodies and harmony. And I let myself get comfortable in his hands, let him hypnotize me to the point of whimsical living. I did not know which was way up, which was down. I was in a world where sorrow could not see me, let alone touch me. I was supreme.
And beneath that air of victory, lay a vulnerability that I ignored because I was safe in the arms of a seemingly confident one. The one who reassured me with actions and not just words that suffering was long gone from my life. I allowed myself to be led, like a lamb, to a place where I told myself I would be safe. Man, how I enjoyed replacing reality with illusions of grandeur, with moments of hedonism, with glimpses of a love that I just knew existed. Why wouldn’t it exist? Isn’t that what God is made of? Why should God hide his face from me? He wouldn’t. Wasn’t he standing in front of me, finally?
An overwhelming relief enveloped my mind and body. But you know, sometimes infatuation dresses itself up in stylish clothes and flawless make-up to masquerade as love. Something was amiss. My soul knew it and tried to warn me to be wary, cautious, careful, and mindful of the past. My inner voice spoke to me in whispers, almost like it wanted to protect me from pain, but it knew I had to know the truth. So it forewarned me in hushed tones to be gentle with this sensitive heart.
But when I turned down the volume, it became anxious, afraid that I would forget what was real, and slip into an unconsciousness where I would live in a coma of delusion until something, someone, would slap me, hard, across my face. And when that slap came, it stung like an injection into flesh, seeping in a good dose of truth into my bloodstream. The slap was the physical manifestation of that whisper that had been trying to pull me out of the fall I was embarking upon.
They call it falling in love; and it sounds so grand. Like a leaf falling to the ground, first dancing with the wind, then descending gracefully onto the earth. But it’s more like falling from the top of a skyscraper, where, all the while you’re falling, the view is magnificent, but you know that in a few seconds, the beauty of the world will meet an ugly realization of eventually hitting the ground.
