So one of my friends posted the most beautiful writing as a stressed out Facebook status. Going to relay it here.
This love I have. It burns. They say to share it. They say to let the person who helped it come to life know what they've done. So that they can help tend the fire. That they can share it with me. This fire inside me, god it burns. It burns so hot I can’t even think about it without breaking a sweat. I get all warm inside at the mere thought of it. Just a mention and I hyperventilate. And all this warmth, it’s almost cozy enough to bask in forever. But it’s just one degree too hot. Like a tub filled with too hot water, It scalds my toes. And me all by myself. I can’t just share this with anyone. I protect it like it’s the last on earth ever. Like it’s the last bit of hope. It’s my last bit of hope, and I’d do anything to hold onto it. It’s inevitable though, I can’t manage it by myself. So I walk up to you, this burning fire in my hands, tears running down my face. I’m scared, and tired of hiding this gigantic fire beneath my feet whenever you come around. It’s why I walk so tall, so that you look up at me, and may not see the inferno that is my secret. And I looked at you, and you’re smiling there. And I couldn't bear the words. I couldn't bear just to shower you with this fire. It wouldn't be fair. So I grabbed an ember from the hearth. And I began to draw a picture. Yes I drew and drew; there are no old Fates here to help me. And you see it. And the Fates laugh. And you look at it. And Destiny cackles. And you turn from it. And Love turns from me. And you walk away. As does Vitality. The fire it smolders. And only I feel it. And just like that. All that warmth. Gone. And I can’t even feel my toes.