Fire

Love has grown in me at different intensities; that was so Jr. High love (Rick Stevens & Alex), first love (Robert Villa 22), so good to be bad love (nameless), passionate love (Michael T), and comfort love (ESL). So many different ways to love that one might argue that these loves I tell about were nothing more than merely lovers looking for love. Through a wild and passionate affair I traveled in and out of a world where the love shared was so unrealistically fantastic and fun it had no other option in the end then to drop me, from the sky onto a cold and dirty hardwood floor, flat on my face. Can I be blamed for seeking comfort after that terrible fall and for easily forgetting what I was after when I was flying so high in the sky – even if I didn’t know it then?
Tita, Like Water for Chocalte, was with me then and last night she came back. She reminded me of something her grandmother once shared with her “...[E]ach of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can't strike them all by ourselves…” (115)
I didn’t understand it then but I get it now. 9 years after reading this passage over and over and over again, I finnally know what I am searching for. I am looking for that explosion that will light the matches and last night I caught a glimpse of the glow.

Come on baby, light my fire.