Love is a wild thing, and it can tear you a part if you let it. It can take your very soul away from you, and leave with nothing but those wild thoughts of what was, and what could have been. It can leave you staring into the eyes of those who truly love the wildness in you, without any ability to speak, or be that person they need you to be.
That is what love can do; it has teeth, and it tracks the lines of your heart and tears and tears until there is nothing left but an emptiness and a weak memory of knowing what it was like to feel happy. Love is wild, and dangerous, and it hunted me. It followed me through the wilderness, and I was foolish enough to walk under the glittering skies unprotected. It hunted me and, bit by bit, tore me apart, slowly and deliberately. That is what love can do. It’s ferocious and unkind and it can destroy you.
It is you that I feel sorry for, though.
Because that person who I was, who loved with all the wildness of the stars, is gone. But at least I know that I embraced the wilderness; at least I was brave enough to invite that wild right in.